LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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Shelf....... 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Frances Slocum; 



THE LOST SISTER. 



SIDNEY LEAR; 



A METRICAL ROMANCE. 



Frances Slocum; 



THE LOST SISTER. 



A POEM, 




CALEB EARL WRIGHT, 

Author of '■'■Marcus Blair" Etc. 



ROBERT BAUR & SON, 

PRINTERS AND PUBLISHERS, 

WILKES-BARRE, PA. 

1889. 



75 3^ ^^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1889, by 

CALEB EARL WRIGHT, 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



DEDICATION. 

Amongst the many affecting incidents attending the early settlement 
of the beautiful valley of Wyoming, and in the stirring times of the 
Revolutionary War, was the capture and carrying into captivity of 
Frances Slocum at the age of five years. She was the daughter of a 
Quaker, whose Family, whilst the chief portion of the resident families 
had fled, ventured to remain in the valley of the noted massacre, in 

July, 177S. 

But short time after the common exodus, a lurking band of the 
Delawares, seized the little girl, who, with outstretched hands towards 
the anguished mother, was borne from a home it was no more her 
privilege to see. 

In search of the lost, the brothers for many subsetiuent years made 
fruitless journeys throughout the northern portion of the Union and 
provinces of Canada. To the dying mother, who never lost faith in the 
final discovery of her child, the sons made assurance of continued efitbrts. 

It was not until the lapse of sixty years, and after the mother's 
decease, intelligence reached them, that a white woman, the widow of 
a Miami Chief, was residing amongst that tribe in the state of Indiana. 
That to a Governmenf Agent she had asserted, that her birth place was 
on the Susquehanna, and her father's name was Slocum. 

Thrilled with the intelligence, the two brothers, and the sister, older 
than the captive, hastily set forth. "Joseph," said the latter, as they 
approached the designated place; "we .shall, certainly know if it is 
Frances, as her finger-nail was hammered off by thee in the smithshop." 

It has been my aim to pay some tribute to the memoiy of this 
victim of savage rapacity, and to dedicate the same to two decendants 
of the Slocuins, Edmund (Jriflin Butler and George Slocum i:ennett. 

C. K. W. 

7th March, 1879. 



FRANCES SLOCUM, 



I. 

"I had not thought to see thy face ; and lo, God hath shewed me 
ilso thy seed." 

Israel to Joseph. 



Imperial Moosic ! On thy brow 
The tread of centuries is stamp'd 

A target of the blinding snow, 
By fleecy, drifting vapor damp'd. 

No pride of forest growth is thine, 
But gnarled bush and creeping vine ; 

No tenant of that frigid face 
Save one, aerial king sublime. 
And paramount of all the clime, 

Plum'd tyrant of the feather'd race. 
Perched on thy crags, his auric eye 



10 I'RANCKS SLOCUM. 

Sweeps all the sylvan realm beneath — 
On meads aglow with varied dye, 
On mists that on the river lie — 

On wand'ring herds of hiil or heath ; 
And ploughmen in the morning gleam 
Whistling behind the creeping team. 

Not }-et by summer rains effac'd 
The crimson stains by carnage trac'd, 
On meadow flow'r and forest bud — 
Memorial tablatures in blood ! 
For through yon gorge, like avalanche 

Its torrent pouring down the Alps, 
In hot precipitate advance, 
Briton and Tory joining blades 
With rangers of the forest glades, 

Demoniac traffickers in scalps, 
(That in the English marts of trade 

Were sought and purchas'd by the bale,) 

Swoop sudden on the fated vale, 



FRANCES SLOCUM. 

Ill charging battle line array'd. 

Muster'd in haste — unmeet the band, 

This triune cohort to withstand. 

How brief the fray !— misnam'd a fight — 

But test of mastery in flight. 

A bloodless conflict of the field, 

A horror when the sword was sheath'd — 
A day that darker crime reveal'd 

Than yet by bulletin bequeath'd. 

Three mopns or more their light have shed 

Upon this gory slaughter pen. 
Revering hands have glean'd the dead; 

Gather'd from plain and hill and glen, 
From willow copse and dark ravine, 
And cinder heaps of house or shed 
And from the river's banks and bed. 
Grim witnesses, of ghastly mien. 

To broken faith and plighted word^ 
Upon each skull, distinctive seen. 



12 FRANCES SLOCUM. 

Gashes of tomahawk or sword, 
And scalplcss ev'ry patriot's lieatl, 
These mantles ov^er manhood spread, 
Invoic'd, as merchantable stores. 
To consignees on foreign shores. 

ISut now are gone the files of w ar. 

And hush'd the morning drum's tattoo 
No bugle note or shout afar, 
Or neighing steeds with foaming Hank 
Rush furious from rank to rank ; 

The field is won, the conflict through, 
And where the dead in slaughter sank, 
The springing clover wet with dew. 



II. 

Not full the measure of domestic peace 
To them, the forests turning; into fields; 

Not theirs from boding fears to find release, 
Or sleep the sleep for which fatigue appeals ; 

Their sweating labor winning slow increase 
Of promis'd store the furrow'd soil reveals ; 

For, night by night, the settler's fireside group 

May, ringing in their ears, wake to the prowlers' 
whoop. 

From mountain slope, or copse, or reedy .sedge. 
From hazle clump or alder's cov'ring shade, 

With reeking knife, and ire of keener edge, 
And willing hand to drive the piercing blade; 

And glitt'ring eyes that bitter deeds presage, 
Gairish in pomp of rudest ta.ste display'd, 



14 FRANCES SLOCUM, 

The Delaware, with helhsh hate imbued, 
Would i;lut on helpless babes, his savage thirst for 
blood. 

Who yet with the authentic pen has shed 
The light of truth historic on this race ? 

Grim Torture's sonsl — wielding the hatchet red, 
Firing the splints thrust into breast and face; 

Stripping with gory blade the captive's head, 
or th;\t fair crown a Ma'ccr put in place. 

For Icngthen'd ages, but one Nero sprung ; 

These, each and all alike, spare neither old nor 
young. 

Whose blood of any here comes down from one 
Of that doom'd circle plac'd by yonder rock ? 

Is not the battle o'er — the day's work done, 
And peace succeeded the tumultuous shock ? 

How is it, haughty, high Britainia's son 

This thing goes on ? — is your pow'r but a mock ? 



FRANCES SLOCUM. 1 5 

Else why these men, standing for home and law, 
Here sKaughtered, mangled, butcher'd by a toothless 
squaw. ^ 

Some, when the sword and torch and scalping knife 
Had rested from their labors in the vale, 

Yet linger'd in the wasted field of strife ; 

While others, old and young, and sick and frail, 

Tumultuous fled through forest regions, rife 
With all the terrors human breasts assail ; 

Cum'bring the paths extending wilds becloud, 

A helpless, houseless, famish'd, wild dispairing 
crowd. 

Led by an inward, ever burning light 

Oi peace the warrant and goodwill to men ; 

Oppos'd to wrong, defenders of the right, 
Believing God his holy benison 

Bestows where peace and kindly love unite, 
Meekly treading, the pathway of his son j 



1 6 FRANCES SLOCUM. 

Are those, who deem war's gory sway should cease, 
Like Penn, unarni'd, who conquest won by deeds of 
peace. 

Yet in the fated valley resident, 

In quiet occupation of their lands; 
Or at their forge, or o'er the needle bent, 

Believing in the Mighty God's commands, 
That by the sweating face should bread be sent ; 

Were those of peaceful lives and bloodless hands. 
One family, when those around had fllown, 
Trusting in God and harmless lives, were left alone. 



III. 

The smithy furnace fire is out ; 

And still'd the clinking anvil's din ; 
The usual debris strewn about, 

And apron hun^ upon its pin ; 
For but an hour the smith is gone, 

And wife and babes are left alone. 
Far better had the father stay'd, 

Defender of his hearth and home ; 
Mayhap not on his heart had laid 

Through lapse of years the weight of doom. 
The housewife o'er her task is bent, 

The artless children all at play ; 

When through the door in fierce array 
Rushes the hideous visitant ; 

Wolves less intent upon their prey ! 
The peaceful throngs of other climes 

(3) 



;8 FRANCES SLOCUM. 

Beneath the banner of the law, 
In hearing of tlie welcome chimes 

That saints to sweet communion draw ; 
May vainly judge the dark abyss, 
Whelming the soul in hours like this. 
Not mother's pray'r nor infant's cry. 

Nor wail in brutal clutch, avails; 
The cord that knits humanity. 

That love that over all prevails, 
The love which on the fatal tree 
Set crime from condemnation free, 
A passion is of Heav'nly grace, 
That in the savage has no place. 

A stripling by a neighbor sent 

Has ground his knife ; and with his thumb 
Touches the sharpened edge, intent 

To know if well the task is done ; 
Too well forsooth ! — with horror dumb. 
All see one demon snatch the knife ; 



FRANCES SLOCUM. 1 9 

And when another myrmidon 
Has sent a bullet through his throat, 

The other slashes off his crown, 
And all the cottage floor 's afloat 

With crimson rivulets of life. 
Now wild despair ! the anguish'd mother 

Joyful perceives two offspring fly ; 
A fragile girl drags forth a brother, 

Tender of age and flying hears 

The savage whoop and mocking jeers, 

Mingled with wail and piteous cry 

Of those left in captivity. 
What change few fleeting moments bring! 

The airy castles that wo build. 

And Fancy's supple fingers gild 
And garnish with the bloom of spring, 
One autumn frost, one tempest gust, 
And naught but unimbodied dust ! 



D FRANCES SLOCUM. 

Stamp'd on the mother's heart alway, 

Last vision of the fated day ! 

Borne through the sedge in hurried race 

One little hand stretch'd back to her — 

Shudd'ring Despair's interpreter ! 
The other parting on her face 

The fallen curls, tiiat hid the white 
Features, that never more shall trace 

The eyes that caught her infant smile ; 
And watch'd each petal charm unfurl, 
For she, more rich than ocean pearl. 

Slung on the demon's shoulder vile, 
Doom'd chaplet of the mother's pride, 
Pass'd down Oblivion's silent tide. 



IV. 

Through sombre woods the foaming waters gHde, 

Of Sinnawango on its rocky bed ; 
The beethng hills that o'er its course preside 

Their cooling zephyrs on its bosom shed ; 
And on the mystic landscape, far and wide, 

Endless, unbounded, green-clad forests spread. 
That day, in nature's wildest garb impearl'd, 
As when the Spaniard's keel first touch'd the newfound 
world. 

Here, where the mountain cleft, a passage makes 
Both for the traveler and plunging stream ; 

In a close nook o'erhung with summer brakes. 
And shut beyond the reach of sunny beam ; 

The Delaware his oily blanket takes, 

And with few leaves constructs, in his esteem. 



22 FRANCES SLOCUM. 

A bed sufficient for the helpless child ; 
Now worn with ceaseless grief, and from exhaustiort 
mild. 

Strange and appalling to the infant mind 
This couching 'neath the starry sky alone ; 

The waving boughs as spectres unconfin'd — 

The distant howl of wolves and owls' loud tone — 

With darkness deep and solitude combin'd ; 
Dread weight upon the little weeper thrown ! 

Silent the mess — no word, or flame arose, 

That might to other's eyes the covert camp dis- 
close. 

This night, but this, traditions tongue has nam'd ; 

No word remains or mention of the rest; 
How pinch'd with frost, or how by travel lam'd, 

How hunger gnawed, or thirst at times distress'd; 
Whether the will by word or blow was tam'd, 



FRANCES SI.OCUM. 23 

The tender flovv'r how trampled or caress'd ; 
Are secrets hidden in the gulf of time — 
Deep, fathomless, unknown, as wrecks in ocean 
slime. 



V. 

Through the green bottom of the west. 
Reflecting from its glassy breast 

The leafy canopy above, 

There flows past open glade and grove 
A tribute to the Wabash river. 
Upon its bank near summer eve 

Came weary on his jaded steed 
A stranger, seeking to receive 

Shelter and lodging, food and feed, 

With compensation to tlie giver. 

There was an Indian structure, plac'd 

Apart, far better in the main. 
Than those the settlement embrac'd ; 

And here the traveler drew rein. 
He had, for many years, among 

The western natives peaceful dwelt ;. 



(4) 



FRANCES SLOCUM. 25 

He knew their ways and spoke their tongue, 

Had trafick'd for their furs and pelt; 
Nor this the first time he had sought 
For shelter in an Indian hut. 

Enter'd, rous'd on her couch of furs, 

Feeble and wan, ag'd and alone, 
A solitary woman stirs. 

He hails her in the English tongue- 
No answer from her lips is wrung. 
But in Miami words address'd, 
. A shade of pleasure veils the face ; 
Half rising on the couch she press'd 

Quick grants, in more than Indian grace, 
Concession to the man's request. 
Erelong the visitor espied 

The woman's hair was liglit of hue ; 
And portions of the arm in view 
Were not in tint of native dy'd. 
" Madam," the stranger gravely said, 



26 FRANCES 5I.OCUM. 

" I would not thouijjhtlessly inquire — 
But how is this ? " 

" I 'm not afraid 
To answer now. Though I had thought. 

To carry with nie to the tomb 
My secret so with marvels fraught. 

But age draws on, and in the gloom 
Of waning strength and wasting pow'rs, 
And lengthening stretch of weary hours, 
It may not be amiss to tell 
A mystery conccal'd so well. 
And then so many moons are gone ; 
And 1 must very soon be laid, 
Beneath the lilies of the glade, 
And sleep forever with my own ; 
I '11 tell the secret that has clung 
So long in hiding on my tongue. 
•T is true, that I am zvhiter 

" And why 

Then here ? " 



FRANCES SLOCUM. 2/ 

" There li'es the cause that kept 
Me still. I could not tell, except 
To do my dearest ones a wrong ; 
For they broke up a sacred tic 

That knit me to my home and kin. 

Yet I with them have happy been ; 
And for this past felicity, 

Freely forgive them their offense." 

" And what was that ? " 

" By violence, 

They forced me from my mother's door, 

And carried me long distance o'er, 
To their own home." 

" How old were you ? " 

" But five years old. And since that day. 

Sixty bright years have passed away. 
There was another reason, too, 
Why I concealed my dwelling place. 

My kindred, knowing, would have come 

And forc'd me to my former home, 



28 FRANCES SLOCUM. 

And all my happiness efface." 

" Where was that home ? " 

" I cannot say. 
But 'twas by Susquehanna's side; 

The name has faded from my mind. 

With Quakers was my father join'd, 
And wore his hat brim very wide." 
"And did you always here abide? " 

" No. With the Delawares at first. 
I married first a Delaware ; 

Then a Miami chief The worst 
And best of life is passed. And where 

My people lie, I go content." 

" In such wa\' amongst strangers sent, 
What name, if an\', did you bear ? " 
" Ma-con-a-qua. A pretty name ? " 

" Euphonious to others' ears ! 
Did they who granted you the same, 

Make blythe and glad the after years ? " 
" No joy was lacking. Day by day 



FRANCES SLOCUM. 29 

From morn till night unceasing play ; 
No irksome task of school or tent, 
But only on diversion bent, 
We children of a diff'rent race 
Sported in romp and frolic chase. 
Much handsomer / was than they, 
(But this I do not vainly say) ; 
And by my counsel they were led ; 

For I could to a hundred count. 

Alone my pony I could mount 
And track the marten to his bed. 
I call'd my pony Yellow Leaf; 
A present from the ruling chief; 

My grandchild so was after nam'd. 
'Twas thus in joy my childhood sped 

Till riper years new purpose claim'd. 
They told me I should be a queen, 

If I the " Hunted Wolf" would wed. 
But there was one who on the green 

Took always in his hand my own. 



30 FRANCES SLOCUM. 

He said my eyes like diamonds shone ; 
And, so it always is, you know, 
We like them most who praise bestow. 
All this was sixty years at^o ! " 
" Your mother — did you her forget ? " 
" It is so long, I scarce remember. 
But I 'vc some recollection yet 

Of crying all the first night through, 
Upon the leaves beneath the timber. 
Seeing her eyes with anguish wet. 

As I was hurried from her view. 
But such a new, strange world of wonder 

Broke sudden on my dazzled eyes, 
Was it surprising it should sunder 

In childish heart all other ties ? " 

Unsearchable the dark decrees 

Of Him, omniscient pow'r on high ; 

Past finding out the mysteries 
Our earthly walks that underlie, 



FRANCES SLOCUM. 3 I 

And make or mar our destiny ; 
Until the veil that blinds our gaze, 
Is lifted in the day of days. 
The clouds that sorrows 'round us throw 

Ere long at the Supreme command, 
Shall waste in the celestial glow 

That guides to the eternal strand. 
And why this brightly budding flow'r 
Should bloom within a desert bow'r? 
And why the mother on her tears 
Swam stricken down the tide of years ? 
Will burst at last upon the sight, 
Unveil'd in the supernal light. 

The fruits, in measure, who can name 
That Ma-con-a-qua's kindness bore ? 
The stranger welcom'd at her door, 

The herald of her fate became. 

Rumor the tidings swiftly bears — 

They reach the sunder'd kinsmen's ears — 



32 FRANCES SLOCUM. 

They 'rouse the nation's sympathy, 
Who by conij^ressional decree ; 

(Most noble and majestic Giver ! ) 
Bestow upon the ^\ idow'd queen, 
The forest wide and prairie green, 

On tribute of the Wabash river. 



VI. 

A measur'd statute mile on ex^ery side, 

Embracing scope of billowy, prairie plain ; 

And spreading far the grassy meadows wide, 
With fertile fields ornate with waving grain ; 

And here and there, dress'd in primeval pride. 
Great timber groves that deck the wide domain 

By deed, a nation's solemn impress bears, 

To Ma-con-a-qua granted, and her lineal heirs. 

The browsing herds doze in the thicket's shade. 
Or dreamy wander o'er the flow'ry lea ; 

Sixty gloss'd coursers gambol on the glade. 
Or mass'd in squadrons flaunt in revelry ; 

In blossom pomp are rolling knolls array'd. 
The God-provided banquet for the bee ; 

And all, as if in compensation giv'n. 

(5) 



34 FRANCES SLOCUM. 

To one for loss of name ; from home and kindred 
riv'n. 

In audience seated in resplendent furs, 
The widow'd queen of a dead potentate 

Impressive sat. On either side, of hers 
A daui;hter, both in Indian garb elate ; 

And Ycllowlcaf, the grandam's heart who stirs 
To rapture undiminish'd by her fate. 

And in the presence now a suite appears — 

Sister, and brothers two, unseen for sixty years. 

With scrutinizing, keen, observant eye. 

The \-isitors look on the aged dame ; 
Brown'd by the sun, in savage finer)-, 

A Saxon, by adornment, save in name. 
She answers back their gaze so frigidly. 

They almost deem that lost for which they came. 
Grown more familiar soon, and less afraid, 
Through the interpreter are read)- answers made. 



FRANCES SLOCUM. 35 

" What is your age ?" " That 's more than I can tell." 
" If you remember it, your birth-place name." 

" 'T was on the Susquehanna." " Very well ; 
Tell us the town." " So long 't is since I came 

From there, that I forget it." " Did you dwell 

With other children ? " " Three. The oldest lame. 

For that cause he was left. The other two 

Slipt out and got away. The fort was just in view." 

" Your christian'd nanie — do you remember that? " 
" No — I forget. But Slocum was the last." 

" Frances ? — was it ? " Quick on the features sat 
The first gleam of a smile — as if the past 

Flush'd in the sweet emotion it begat, 
And freed the soul of darkness overcast. 

Stoic proclivity could not suppress 

The inward rising tide that swell'd beneath her "yes." 

In wild, excited, throbbing passions bound. 
The others listen to that utter'd word. 



36 FRANCES SLOCUM. 

One question more, but one, would they propound 
"Show us the ri^ht forefinger." At the word 

The hand is rais'd. The finger w^th its wound, 
(Nail lacking), at the brother's hand incurred 

Who now look'd on. " Tell us, how this is so ? " 

■" My brother, with a hanniier — sixty years ago." 

What need of more ? Respondent to the pray'r, 
A dying mother on the sons impress'd ; 

Trac'd, where the savage hid her in his lair, 
The lost is found. But grief beguiling quest! 

The brothers pace the room. In deep despair 
The anguish'd sister's tears flow unrepress'd. 

Meanwhile impassive, the Miami queen 

Shows no participation in the niox'ing scene. 

Inscrutable the tutorage that steels 

The human heart, and chokes the tide of tears; 
Hiding the thrill that culture's school reveals, 

And cold alike in joy, in grief or fears. 



FRANCES SLOCUM. 37 

What hidden impulse now her mask conceals, 
By naught in face or heaving breast appears. 
A moment Frances call'd, the veil's remov'd — 
A glimpse of home — mother's last glance at the be- 
lov'd ! 



VII. 

Ere parting, Ma-coii-a-qua's fears 

By kindred love was brush'd away; 
For ties of blood, relax'd for \-ears, 

Re-knit with each succeeding day. 
But offer of a home once more 
Upon her nativ^e river's shore. 

The ag'd Miami queen tleclin'd. 

By fate her path had been assign'd 
To lands where she her daughters bore. 

Her husbands slept in prairie mould, 

And she must slumber b\' their side; 
That join'd again they might explore 

The forests of the Spirit's fold, 
And there in endless bliss abide. 
Bu\. ere the sands of life had run, 
Or her last journey had begun 



FRANCES SLOCUM. 

To realms beyond the setting sun. 

Once more the welcome brothers came 
Kindlint^r anew the pristine flame 
Of infant joys and frolic game, 
Where Susquehanna's waters flow, 
And flow'd, full sixty years ago. 



39 



Now l>Io(~>in tlu' 1u'(1l;(.' and ]>r:iiric fli^w'rs, 

Atul sunlii^ht falls in i;()l(k'ii slunv'rs, 

Wluic" IMa-con-a-qua's saiulal\l feet 

In autumn cliill and summer's heat, 

Trod lithsome tlir(>ui;li the forest L^lades. 

Anil wliili- Miami's hordes resitle 

He)-oiul the Mississippi's tide; 
//,7 line, with nobler blooti alli'd 
In onuaid tread <A' Time's ilecades, 

1>\- nu'stie enterweax ini; strains 
Will know nf> moie distineti\e's sjjrades^ 

Hut kinsmen all with kindied \eins. 
As under l-.den's blissful shades. 
The patriareh of Israel's \]ock 

Asenath's Nile-born sons eart'ss'd ; 
lie i^rafted them on judah's stoek 



I'KANCKS SLOCUM. 

And with adoptinc;- blessing blcss'd. 
And lie, exalted pow'r Sujjrenie, 
Who n)inglc:d in one common stieam 
The blood of Jordan and the Nile; 
Shall in his providence crcwhilc 
With Saxon warp and woof entwine 
Tile threads of Ma-con-a-qua's line 



(O) 



IX. 

Down where the meadow lark sings, 
And the climbing jasmine clings ; 
Where the daisies grow, 
And hyacinths blow, 
And the air is perfume 
With the red clover's bloom, 
Hid by the prairie's soft mantle of green 
Peacefully slumbers the Miami queen. 
Above her are sweet symphonies — 
The bird song and hum of the bees. 
The sheen of the sun on the plain. 
And zephyr's enchanting refrain, 
A murmuring hymn in the trees. 

Long, long may the dews of the morn, 
(Bright pearls of the beautiful Giver), 



FRANCES SLOCUM. 

The green mound with spangles adorn 

Above the lost one by the river. 
And she, of the grief-burden'd breast 
Whose blossom was blown from the stem, 

In the home of the blest 

The glad haven of rest, 

At last shall regain 

And forever retain 
Her Frances, her darling, a beautified gem. 

THE END. 



43 



SIDNEY LEAR 



A METRICAL ROMANCE; 



By 



CALEB EARL WRIGHT, 

Author of " Rachel Craig;' Etc. 




ROBERT BAUR & SON, 

PRINTERS AND PUBLISHERS, 

WILKES-BARRE, PA. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1889, by 

CALEB EARL WRIGHT, 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



This slight tribute of respect (to one meriting far greater), is dedi- 
cated to Col. Charles Dorrance. 

By his lifelong friend, 

C. E. W. 
Bucks County, Pa., 22d Mar., 1889. 



INTRODUCTORY P:PISTLE. 

By permission of the author of the following poetic narrative, it is 
my pleasure to state : that I am grandson of Douglas Marr, therein 
referred to, who was at one time Colonel of a regiment in the High- 
land muster ; afterward a prominent member of the Scottish bar ; and 
subsequently, by royal favor, commissioned judge. 

It seemed to me rather singular that I, a resident of Caithness, on a 
pleasure tour through parts of the American Union, seated in a rail- 
road car, should overhear a somewhat heated discussion on a subject with 
which I was so familiar. It took place between two gentlemen occu- 
pying the seat directly in front of my own. One of them was an 
elderly man, somewhat cori:)ulent, with prominent, restless black eyes, 
peqjetually changing his position on the seat, and having a style of 
conversation interlarded with hems and hmus to a remarkable extent. 
One more absent-minded and forgetful is not often met with. He was 
much of the time hunting for his tooth-pick or pocket-handkerchief, 
which never found their way back whence they came. The conductor 
had several combats with him aljout his ticket; that one time was found 
under his feet, and at another in his hat. One side of his vest was 
buttoned lower than the other, and divers scraps of his luncli were left 
in his beard. 

I had observed liefore taking seat directly behind him, that he 
afforded much amusement to a party of girls sitting on the opposite side 
of the car. It was doubtless unusual for tliem to see a man endeavor- 
ing to put both of his gloves on the same hand, or grasping his cane at 
the wrong end. 

His companion was a man of forty, or thereabouts; of a quiet, self- 
possessed manner; holding in his hand a roll of manuscript. The con- 



6 SIDNEY LEAR. 

vcrsation of the two, I noticed on taking the scat behind them, had ref- 
erence to a portion of its contents. 

" Well ; " the younger man was saying, " I have so i)ut it down ; and 
so it will go into the printer's hands." 

" It's a — ^liaw — ay — ch — .scandalous falsifying of — hum — ha — fact; " 
the other asserted. "You've no right, I say, to do any such — hem — 
aw — thing. Where 's my handkerchief gone to ? Get up, you 're — eh 
— what — ^liem — sitting on it." 

" There it is under your feet. Any falsifying of facts I promptly dis- 
avow. What I have written is based on the highest authority." 

" To the — hum — eh — dogs with your authority. So far as I 'vc — em 
— oh — gone in this world ; and the experience I' ve — hem — had, 
authority is — hem — as you say — aw — haw — ay — what is it ? " 

" Well, sir " 

" Ha — ho — hold on. Can 't you allow a man time to — ch — ay — 
blow his nose? There, now," after finishing tlic task ; " what was it — 
eh — humph — aw — I was about to say ? " 

" That it was not Caithness but Sutherland. And I should like to 
know your authority for persisting in the assertion that it was the lat- 
ter ? " 

"That's a — em — ay — hem — question nov/. Didn't I live for years 
next door to — hem — eh — ay — one of the family ? Yes, sir, I knew 
him — ch — aw — as well as one of my own family circle. His name 's 
as — aw — hem — familiar to mc as my own ; this Mr. — Mr. — what name 
was it ? " 

" The name was Marr." 

" Ju.st so. Button me this — ay — hem — sleeve. Now, as to the resi- 
dence of— ay — haw — the family of this Mr. — this Mr. — em — ha — what 
did you say his confounded name was ? " 

'= Marr." 

" Yes, Marr. What aliout him ? " 



SIDNEY LEAR. 7 

" Simply this. You say his family were of Sutherland. I .say of 
Caithness." 

" You 're always wrong. I can 'I understand v/hy — aw— -hem— eh — 
you blunder at everything. Now let me — hum])h — stoi? a bit. I 'vc a 
toothpick somewhere about." 

'• You '11 find it in your mouth. Did this man tell you the Marrs 
were of Sutherland ?" 

" It makes no odds — eh — hum— ha — wliat he told me. That much 
I knew without." 

" Let me give yon the source of my information ? " 

'= You '11 oblige me — ay — hum — eh — by giving me fewer of your con- 
tradic — hum — tions. Pick mc up that glove." 

" All I can say is, fact is fact." 

'■'• Hoot ! — ha — eh — hem — that 's gammon. I deny it. And as for 
your — ay — hem — trash, there in your lap, you'd better — ch — haw — 
throv,' the whole batch in the fire." 

" Let me inform you, sir," the younger man resjjonded, a good deal 
nettled, "that endurance has its limits; even endurance of another's 
incivility and ignorance. What I assert I know to be correct. I was 
in Scotland but two years ago, and was at the homestead of the iVIarrs 
in Caithness. P'urthermorc at the very house occupied by one of the 
most distingui.shed of their number. That was Judge Marr, a Colonel 
in the Pretender's army in '45, and subsequently one of the Scottish 
Judges. And I say, once for all, the family belonged to Caithness." 

'■'■ And I say — hem — ch — you talk like a teapot. Sutlicrland — Suther- 
1 aid, do you — ay — hem — hear? Sutherland; I'll l)ct my — aw — haw 
— hum — head on it." 

" You will loose the wager, sir ; " I ventured to interpose. 

" Ho — ay — hum — wJio arc you ? " the old gentleman growled, turning 
upon me. 

" E2ggi"g pardon for the interference, my dear sir," v/as my reply — 



SIDNKV I.KAR. 



" I am Ossian Marr, tjiandsoii of llie soldier and Judge of whom you 
were speaking. He and I were liorn in Caithness." 

" Ves — eh ay — Caithness, as I said. That 's what I 've been — ay 
— ham — contending the last hour. But this — aw — hum — eh — blockhead, 
would have it Sutherland. I knew all the time the Judge was born in 
— aw — hem — eh — where did you say it was ? " 

I renewed the information, of which the forgetful old gentleman 
took no heed, busily searching his pockets for something mislaid. 

I took advantage of the first opportunity, aside from the senior of the 
two, to inquire something regarding the manuscrijjt the other had in his 
hand ; and to make some question as to the manner in which he had 
represented my kinsman. 

The production he informed me was a Metrical Romance. That the 
part he had with him contained no allusion to Judge Marr. Hut he 
would cheerfully give me a letter, which I could present at the publish- 
ing house of Robert Baur & Son ; nothing doubting but they would 
afford me inspection of the other part of the manuscript. 

I in consequence waited on the Messrs. Baur, (of whose courtesy it is 
a pleasure to bear witness), and the MS. was promptly placed before 
me. On looking over it 1 was gratified to find that my ancestor had 
been correctly portrayed. And further, so far as the hasty reading en- 
abled me, to find that all parts of the narrative wore in .strict accordance 
with truth. 

Iking myself, through the indulgence of my fellow countrymen, the 
poetic genius of their community, I have, with the consent of the 
author, appended to his volume an offering in rhyme; though an in- 
ferior epilogue, I admit, where merit calls for something more deserv- 
ing. 

Respectfully subscribed, 

OssiAN Marr. 

Aukingill, Scotland, 2 Mar.. l88q. 



SIDNEY LEAR, 



T. 

" Whate'er I have in house or field, 

In purse or garner, cril) and store ; 

My heart to cheer and roof to shield. 

And all that love has grace to yield, 

Of mine be thine ; and o'er and o'er 

I bid sweet welcome to my door." 

The lake-born Connawassct, white with foam, 
And filling all the dreamy wild with din, 
Washes, in headlong race, the foot of brown 
Culloden Brae, This peak, through the long lapse 
Of time the eagle's eyrie was, until 
Old Hubert Gray, driving the feather'd monarch 
Thence, usurp'd his throne, and made the granite 
Parapet his own. Here with unskilled hands 
He rear'd his hut. Karth furnish'd clay, the forest 
Logs. With axe and spade alone the zealous builder 



lO SIONKY LEAK. 

Wroii^;Iit. Two rooms below — the attic ladder — 

rcach'd ; 
Tlie ro^^r of bark, aiitl lloor of beaten earth. 
Wide was the chimney, with its iron trammel 
And bent hooks. Outside were field and t;arden, 
Fenc'd about with logs. A bubblini; sprintj^ was 
At the tloor, seiulini; swift down its warbling rill 
To join the Connawasset. A dog curl'd 
Sleeping- on the doorway step ; and in the 
Distant swale the cowbell's minstrelsy 
Sweetened the passing hour through summer time; 
Melodious making solitude. 

Hubert, 
Sitting at his door, twirling with idle 
l^'ingers the spaniel's silken ears ; musing 
Upon past days, past days of youthful glee, 
Of wrapt ambition, love, adventure, war ; 
Aiu\ how, ere yet the badge oi' manhood crown'd 
His chin, he ganibol'd with his fellows on 
Tlie green ; and after, red with blushes and 



SIDNEY LEAK. I I 

Half j^uilty tread ventured within the realm, 
Intoxicating, rosy realm, where beauty reign'd ; 
And how with heart on fire a fond confusion 
Muddled and jangled all his forms of speech, 
As facing, sad to say, a pair of azure eyes. 
But well escap'd, though limping from the fray. 
How bearded manhood o[)en'd forth, 
And far along the path of life the golden 
Gleam of fame uprose. And how — 
But hearken! — was it the panther's seeming 
Human cry? — another, and another! — 
Notes of anguish, ringing the forest through. 
Upspringing in hot haste ; snatching the firelock 
Down, and bidding Jock attend him forth, he 
Rush'd away. The pathless route led on through 
Tangled brakes, and over jagged flint and 
Fallen trunks uprooted by the gale ; 
Meanwhile the piercing cries guiding his course. 
Anon, one glance down through the pendant boughs, 
Shading a woody dell, disclosed the cause 



12 sinNi:v i,i:ak. 

Of such a tlamoroiis din. A fragile ^irl, 
Resisting with her nii^hl, he r aiii^uish'd face 
Halt hill 1))' looscii'd curls, was by a man 
l)ra;^gc-ci rudclv on the t^round. 

Wasting no time, 
'l"hc \'et'ran raisc-d the tocsin i)eal, whcrcwitli 
In other days his s(|uadron charged in war, 
And dashed upon the twain, attended by 
The yelping dog, heedless of snags that rent 
Mis garb or thorns that jjierced his flesh. 
So fierce an onset panic-w helmed the foe, 
Who, dropping quick his victim, (led in liaste. 
Hubert a moment view'd the prostrate form. 
Then gc-ntl\' ti>uche<.l her iiaiiil, which hastily 
riie maid w itlulrew. 

" Toor lassie !" he began 
In soothing stiains; "put now yer loof in mine. 
An" 1 will lift \e up." 

Again the little hand 
Shrank from the touch. 



si[)Ni;y licak. 13 

"Jirks it awa' ! " tlic other 
Murniui'cfJ. "Jirks it awa' ! Wiiitia allow 
The wee stna' finders touch'd. I'll try or)ce inair. 
Why, little lass, ye- flo me wraii}^. I would na 
I'^or the hale wide worl' do ye a harm. 
I'm ne'er a pjhaist, that ye should startle at; 
Not I. i'>ut jilain auld Huhe-rt <>' the- Brae; 
An honest man. Culloden Jirae, I mean. 
'Twas my ain sel' sae ca'd the di/./.y era^. 
But of a' this I'll speak Sf^me ither time. 
Now come wi' me, fjoor lassie, to my hi^j^dn. 
Ye shall hae mickle care." 

The da/'d and trembling 
Maiden raisefl lier tearful eyes. 

" Guid o'ye 
Tliat!" said Hubert. "Vera ^niifl. I mark yer 
I'xn o' bonny blue. Ah ! blue, blue een ! 
]{()W they ca' up the hallow'd memories, 
The memr^ries o' ither days, the- braw, 
liraw days in ither realms far aff ! All, me ! 



14 SIDNKY LEAK. 

The sparklin' cen ! Gic me yer hand." 

Trembhng, 
The slender fin<;er.s crept within lii.s own. 
" Saft, .saft," he musing, said, " an' white as snaw, 
An' warm. Mony the dreary days are past, 
Syne I hae felt the like. Sure, lassie, it 
Would do na harm, if here an auld man's mou' 
Should plant ane kiss?" And then, with rev'rent air, 
A moment held the soft hand to his lips. 
Then helping uj) the other to her feet, 
Set forward for the cliff 

" Mind now your steps," 
He said in passing thence. " Mony the flints, 
An' sharp, by brackens hid. Na path is this, 
So I will haud your hand. An' may I spier, 
Wha was the cruel mon that in rude manner 
Draggit ye alang ? " 

No answer came. 
" Weel, let it pass. Mayhaj) you do na ken. 
Tread carefu' here; an' set your foot aboon 



SIDNEY LEAR. I 5 

This bog — sae. Now on the stane — so, so, so. 
This foord is vile across the Cinnamun<^ ; 
That's how the brawlin burn is ca'd. And by 
Yon grove o' pines anent the sloping hill. 
The Connawasset gulps it doon. 

" Tap o' the 
Brae at last ! " Wiping his brow when up the 
Steep ascent. "An' het wark, too. And lassie, 
Weel ye 've stood the strain. Jock, too, maks a lang 
Tongue o' it. Culloden Brae is this. An' yon't 
The biggin. Jock an' I, belike twa brithers, 
There hae dwelt for mony days. An' now 
My heart is fu' o' pride that ane sae winsome 
As yoursel' honours my scrimpit hame. 
The * Plighland welcome,' that the poet sings. 
Greets you beneath my roof. Sae come right in. 
But sad it is, that naethin' better than 
A birkin stool, is there to offer for 
A seat. But sit ye doon, .sit doon, an' rest 
Your weary limbs. Sae lassie tak' your ease, 



l6 SIDNEY LEAR. 

The whyles I milk the crummock at the byre 
An' after, set the supper on." 

The task 
Accomph'sh'd, and the frugal meal arrang'd, 
The host turned to the guest. " Now lassie, draw 
Your stool, for weel I ken ye stan' in need 
O' food. But fir.st to Ilim wha deals 
His bounties forth, we offer thanks. 

" Great Giver 
O' a' guid," his grace began ; " large as our needs 
The measure o' thy gifts. Tak' our poor thanks, 
The best that poverty affords, an' wi' 
Thy blessing crown the board." 

"Amen !" the maiden 
Murnuir'd in half whispered tone; but loud enough 
To reach old Hubert's ear. With joyous glance 
He scann'd the girlish face ; then fervent spake : 
" Ye could nae, lass, have us'd a better word. 
It stirs my heart an' wakes auld mem'ries up ; 
Sair but sweet mem'ries o' a day, when twa 



SIDNEY LEAR. 1/ 

Besides mysel', sat blissfu' at our meals. 

Weel was it spoken by ye, gentle lass. 

1 doubt not but a godly mither taught 

Ye thus. An' now, as we perhaps maun spend 

Some time togither in this place; an' fright 

Nae langer sits upon your tongue, may I 

But ask the name whereby ye 're ca'd?" 

" Sidney. 
Sometimes, in brief, just Sid." 

" Guid — guid — maist guid ! " 
Cried Hubert, pushing his trencher by. " I lo'e 
That name — the bonny, winsome name ! Ane bairn, 
But only ane, had I ; sweetest o' a' 
The heav'nly Father gies — ane winsome bairn, 
A wee bit creepin' bairn, hirplin' an' glintin' 
At my knee, a tiny hand half swallow'd 
Doon her mou', an' twa great e'es turned upward 
Glowrin' at her dad. 

" But that 's a' passed. 
Ane day fell Fate cam' stealthy neath the thath, 

(3) 



I 8 SIDNKV LEAR. 

An' sundered a" the blissfu' ties o' hame ; 
That happy, peacefu' hame. Now sit I here, 
In lone companionship wi' Jock ; save now 
An' then, that Steplien comes to pass an hour 
Or twa." 

"Stephen?" queried the <^'\r\. 

"Aye, lass. 
The miller's lad. Milbray, his ither name. 
A mile or mair, ayont this peak, an' on 
The Connawasset, is the father's mill. 
An' Stephen is my frien'. Now when the board 
Is clear'd, an' Jock hae had his bane, an' I 
Hae lit my pipe, we '11 sit out by the door 
An' prate our fill." 

" Sure, if it please you, sir." 
"An' now," bcLjan the Scot, with pipe in mouth, 
" I maun question first, in what part o' this 
Wide land ye hae been rear'd?" 

" Not in this land 
At all ; in Gloucester." 



SIDNEY LEAR. I9 

"Ho! a Briton?" 
"No — but Scotch." 

" Bless my saul !" the old man cried. 
" Gie me your hand, my lassie. Aye, ycr hand 
Ance mair. Ay bless'd the day that brought ye to 
My hearth. Scotch ! A blessinj^ on yer lips that 
Tell it. The hale vvarl's rev'rence crown the lond 
O' Bruce ! Next to the love the Maker claims, 
And justly, o' us a', is the deep thrill 
O' loyal Scottish hearts for Scotland's name 
And fame. Aye, boimy lass, nae soil the wide 
Worl' o'er grows better men. There's \artue in 
The heather. The braes and stony dells frae 
Grampian hills to bleak Caithness, each foot an' 
Acre, the fruitfu' mither is o' braw, 
Braw men, an' Strang. I'm Highland born, mysel'. 
Ye should hae seen me in the plaid an' kilt 
At Preston an' at Falkirk! Heck! my lass, 
But those were royal days ! 

"An' ye are Scotch ! 



20 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Sure, but it puts new life in me. This peak 
Taks on a leesome leuk ; an' c^olden simmer 
Shines in new array. Saft, saft will be my 
Slumbers a' this night, wi' ane o' Scottish birth 
Beneath my roof." 

" My father, let me say, 
Was Highland born." 

"Guid!" murmur'd quick the Scot, 
" Served under the Pretender." 

" Guid ! — verra guid !" 
"And aided his escape to France." 

" Best ! o' a' ! 
Wad I might tak' that fellow sodger by 
The han' ; that loyal han' that drew a blade 
For Charlie." 

"That hand is cold. Drown'd was he. 
As we learn'd, the time his royal Master fled." 
" May he find rest in Heaven. I too was wi' 
The lavvfu' King. Was under him at fell 
Culloden. An' when he sail'd awa' my 



SIDNEY LEAR. 21 

Troubles cam'. Three years, lang years aboord a 

Whaling ship, far in the north. Then drappit 

On this western worl'. Then under British 

Braddock in his fell campaign. Saw him fa' 

Aff his steed ; an' some days after, wi' these 

Han's, help'd dig the grave wherein he sleeps. 

Then something chanc'd, (I need nae stap to tell,) 

An' here through mickle forest wilds I foun' 

My way, to settle doon upon this cliff. 

Sair, sair, my lot hae been." 

Peaceful and sweet 
The sun of joys domestic beam'd on 
Culloden's hut. Hubert, exulting, liv'd 
Again young manhood's dulcit days. Jock 
Found a new companion, who, with gun 
In hand, beset the forest jungles. 
After game. Nor vain was such pursuit. 
The table of the simple Scot bent 'neath 
The trophies of the chase. The whirring pheasant, 



2 2 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Stately turkey cock, and boundiiii; buck were 
Victims of the leaden shafts. How olorious 
The days of forest jaunts ! The rose grew more 
And more resplendent on the maiden's cheek, 
Thus tramping hill and dell. 

At length a changing 
Tide broke sudden on Culloden's quiet 
Sea of life. 

Out on the oak-thatched mountain 
Spur, one morn, a panting deer, quiv'ring with fright, 
Flank dripping blood, was, by the damsel's ball, 
Heart-pierc'd and kill'd. Stooping a moment o'er 
The mottled beast, some one approach'd. Stephen 
It was — standing, as she looked up, silent 
In wonder. luiger, puzzling thought enrapt 
His face. 

"Why!" awkwardly his tongue at length 
Made out to stammer. 

" Well ?" came in reply. 
" Where is the manf Who was it shot ?" 



SIDNKY LEAR. 23 

" 'T was I. 
Is it your deer?" 

" Mine?" 

" Yours." 

" There is a law," 
Said Stephen, " the man who.se bullet kills, takes." 
" You also hit. The ball mark plainly shows. 
Look at it here. Let us divide." 

" No — no. 
That 's not the rule. The whole is yours. And I 
Will take it for you to your home. Where is 't?" 
" I may not tell you that." 

"And wherefore not?" 
" That is, unless — unless — but that may not 
Be so — it mi^ht prove — but, but tell me first. 
Are you Stephen?" 

" That is my name. And in 
Your hands is Hubert's ^un. And this is Jock." 
A smile crept o'er the lassie's face, hearing 
This said. 



24 SIDNEY LEAR. 

"O yes. I know Hubert and his 
Secret well." 

" He has most often spoken 
In your praise. And I am glad to meet you 
As his friend." 

"Do you live with Hubert Gray?' 
" The past few weeks. I'm not his kinswoman. 
And now, as you and I hereafter may have 
Friendly intercourse, Sid you may call me; 
Or Sidney, as you choose. And let me say. 
Old Hubert likes me, that I am Scottish born. 
But living most my life in England. 
Why I am here, shut in this fastness up, 
I'll tell some other time. Meanwhile I am 
Well pleas'd you come to make the time pass by 
More pleasantly. And do n't misjudge me for 
A hoiden lass, that I can handle arms. 
My mother's cousin was an English 
Gentleman, with lands and park at Gloucester. 
He taught me many of the manly arts — 



SIDNEY LEAR. 25 

To shoot, and fence, and skate, and ride, and angle. 
So, if you have fish, as well as other game 
Near by, I '11 take a turn with you, in this 
Fine sport." 

" Trout have we in the Connawasset, 
Large and many. There 's worms about the barn, 
And beetles ev'rywhere." 

" I do not use 
Such bait. Flies — only flies." 

•' What sort of flies ?" 
^' Not real ones, but artificial. I 
Will show you not only how to cast, but 
How to make them. It is a most ripe art. 
We '11 work together ; and make the March brown 
And dun Drake ; the May fly. Ibis, greentail ; 
The ginger hackle, blue and dun ; the stone fly. 
Alder, green and gray ; the coachman, yellow Sally, 
And some more. Now, let us go. But how shall 
This grand prize be taken from the woods ? 

"Ho! 

(4) 



26 SIDNEY LEAK. 

That 's nothing. I will carry it." 

" No — by 
No means. 'T would break your back." 

" No fear — no fear. 
Give me a lift to get it on my shoulder." 
" Indeed, I will not. Forsooth — let the wolves 
Have it sooner." 

" Only two hundred pounds." 
" That 's full a hundred times too much for you 
To bear. Believe me, I would never put 
A morsel of it to my lips, knowing 
How dearly it had tax'd your strength, and put 
Your life in peril." 

" Your wish shall rule me." 
" That is good. I thank you, Stephen." 

" For your 
Sake, I desist." 

" That is far better still. 
Truth, in sincerity avouch'd, has 
Double worth." 



SIDNEY LEAR. 2/ 

" The hunters have a way, to 
Baffle wolves and other beasts, of hanging 
Game high on a tree. It serves till help is had." 
" We both can lift this deer ? " 

" Easily — yes." 
" Then let 's at it. I can lift the half" 

" You ! — 
Do n't think it. You 're but a girl. And this is 
Men's work." 

" I wish, then, for an hour, at least, 
I were a man." 

" I 'd have you nothing else 
But what you are." 

" I Jo recall the wish." 
" Let me show you something. You see this bit 
Of cord ? I always carry it. When through 
The tendons of the hinder legs I thrust 
A stick, and tie the cord midway, and throw 
The end of it above a limb, I jirk 
His lordship upward in a jiffy." 



28 SIDNEY LEAR. 

"How ripe you hunters are in strange devices? 
The feat both simple seems and feasible. 
Let 's about it. But I must, bear in mind, 
Help you to pull." 

The task was soon accomplish'd ; 
Mysterious cohesion drawing hand 
To hand, as nervous fingers girt the cord ; 
And silence, sweeter than interchanging words 
Enchain'd the tongue. 

" There !" said the girl ; 
Gazing on the suspended deer; " was it 
Done ever better since the world began ? 
I '11 know another time the way to keep 
The prowling thieves from feasting on my game. 
So now we '11 go. You are for Hubert's bound ? " 
" Not now. I 'm very sorry it is so. 
My father waits. But soon I will be there." 
" So we must part. Our meeting has been pleasant." 
" I must have said the same if you had not." 
" Good-bye, then." 



SIDNEY LEAR. 2g 

"Good-bye." 

" Till next we meet." 
" You 're sure you know the way ? " the swain inquired. 
" Right well, indeed." 

A few rods sunder'd, and 
The damsel called out, " Stephen ? " 

"Well — what is 't?" 
"Do you hunt to-morrow?" 

"Most like. Yes, I 
Think I will. That 's settled." 

" Where do you hunt?" 
" I cannot say." 

" Is not this good ground ?" 

" Yes — 
None better; this will be the place." 

Again 
The distance widen'd. But again was 
Stephen called. 

" Pardon me, but I did not 
Ask the hour." 



30 SIDNEY I.KAR. 

"Ateii^ht o'clock." 

" Thank you, Stephen." 
Another start, and wider separation. 
Then the halloo from the other came : 
" Sidney ? — Sidney ! " 

" Yes — I listen." 

" Will j'ort 
Be here?" 

" Trust me ; as surely as to-morrow 
Is to-morrow." 

Time will not mend his pace 
A jot; nor niglit her inky robes lay sooner 
Off, for lovers' muttered pray'rs. And pillows 
Where tir'd labor droops his head, no solace 
Give to those who long for day. And so the 
Sun, that coming morn, though some hours chided 
As a laggard, rose radiant at last 
On two young watchers' eyes. Precise at tryst 
The youthful pair were met. But firelocks, balls 



SIDNEY LEAR. 3 I 

And powder, useless incumbrances, were 
Laid aside ; and forth they went, through sylvan 
Nooks and over timber'd hills, to reach the 
Highest peak for miles about, flere sat they 
Down to rest. 

" How grand to view ! Stephen, name 
Me the points. That 's the Susquehanna — what 's 
The falls?" 

STEPHEN. 

The Nanticoke. 

SIDNEY. 

Speak it again. 

STEPHEN. 

Nanticoke. 

SIDNEY. 

Kuphonious term ! 

STEPHEN. 

'T is Indian. Their appellations hold 
In many cases. 

SIDNEY. 

We have nothing in 



32 SIDNEY LEAR. 

My native land harmonious as this. 

STEPHEN. 

That high range, eastward, is Penobscot. 
Further on, highest of all and naked, 
Is Bald mount. And there, across the river, 
Over the Hogback spur, ascends the Indian 
Path. Time, beyond memory, the red man's 
Grand highway. You see it as a thread, creep 
Toward the mountain top. On it plum'd warriors 
Led their files of painted braves. The run that 
Trickles down the rocky slope, yet bears the name 
Of Warrior Run. 

SIDNEY. 

It looks to me as if 
Below us, the mountain chain was rent, to 
Give the river passage ? 

STEPHEN. 

That is so. 
And then, some miles above, the current pierc'd 
Its way for entrance to the valley. And 



SIDNEY I.EAR. 33 

Here, drill'd the rocks stupendous, to pass out. 

SIDNEY. 

There must be danger in these falls. 

STEPHEN. 

O, no, 
I have swum them oft. 

SIDNEY. 

Do it not again. 

STEPHEN. 

I will not — you 've my promise. 

SIDNEY. 

That 's well. Your 
Safety is my peace. When I am gone from 
Here, remember it. 

STEPHEN. 

How hard to hear that. 
Must — must you go? 

SIDNEY. 

O, Stephen ! I 'd answer 
Freely if I could. A vexing errand 

(5) 



34 SIDNEV LEAR. 

Broui^ht me here. Upon its issue all my 
Future hani^s. Will you abide here always ? 

STEPHEN. 

Here — else on the Merrimack. 



SIDNEY. 



1 think that 's 



In the ICast? 

STEPHEN. 

Yes ; in New England. Upon 
Its banks my kindred dwell. A fretful stream, 
Wat'ring a land of scholars. I had my 
Education there. But lately we came 
Hither. Two years ago, lur'd by the glitter 
Of o'ertinted, wild reports, here sought a 
Home. But now it brings no shadow of regret 
Upon my heart, since it has led me to 
This hour of ecstacy, here at your side. 

SIDNEY. 

These words have dulcit cadence in my ears. 

STEPHEN. 

No more than ev'ry whisper of your lips 



SIDNEY LEAR. 35 

Brings rapt felicity to mine. 

SIDNEY. 

How sweet 
The occupation of a list'ner, charm'd 
With such dear avowal ! But, sweet my friend, 
Were it not wise, that prudence curb the license 
Of our tongues, lest parting cause the keener sting 
To our poor hearts ? 

SrEPHEN. 

Perchance. I can n't say less. 

SIDNEY. 

Pray you, do not think I chide. Far more than 
Yours was mine the blame, if blame there was. 
I led you on. 

STEPHEN. 

Still lead — I '11 follow you. 

SIDNEY. 

Stephen, so blind and devious the path 
Becomes, I falter. 



36 SIDNEY LEAR. 

STEPHEN. 

Still your follower 
I '11 be. I had not thought till now, vain as 
I was, to ever meet one better than 
Myself. Now I forget myself in fond 
Observance of your higher merit. 

SIDNEY. 

But that I knew your heart, this, sure, would sound 
Like flatter)'. And yet, upon my tongue 
Since yesterday, unspoken, ha\e couch'd more 
Sweeter terms in your own praise. 

STKI'IIKN. 

Yesterday ! — 
Best of all days ! Darling, here on my heart 
'T is registcr'd. The wountled deer, bearing the 
Cruel lead beneath his velvet coat, did 
Usher me, its would-be sla\-er, to your 
Presence. Rich the reward of cruelty ! 
And now you speak of going home. Dare I 
To question of your coming back ? I fear 
'To ask. 



SIDNEY LEAR. 



17 



SIDNEY. 

And I to answer. But what help 
Is there ? I did not, coming, cross the deep 
Of choice ; though now I bless the bark that brought 
Me hither. 

STEPHEN. 

Stay — stay. 

SIDNEY. 

Do not plead. It makes 
Involv'd perplexity more bitter. Let us 
Return. 

STEPHEN. 

First let me pluck a garland from 
This oak. For my sake, wear it. 



II. 

" There 's not an hour 
Of day or dreaming night but I am with thee : 
There 's not a wind but whispers of your name, 
And not a flow'r that sleeps beneath the moon, 
But in its hue or fragrance tells a tale 
Of thee." 

Coming alone to Hubert's liut that eve, 

The girl discern'd traces of a conflict. 

Jock, limping and stain'd with gore, alone was there. 

Within the hut, domestic wares, o'erturned, 

Were strewn about. Some drops of blood blotch'd the 

Doorway lintels. Bits of tatter'd tinsel. 

Like that in baldricks worn, lay here and there; 

As also fragments of old Hubert's well 

Worn linsey blouse. Terror-stricken, 

A moment gazing on th' unwelcome sight, 

She rushed down to the mill. Haggard and wild, 

And tongueless for a space, her entrance 'maz'd 



SIDNEY LEAR. 39 

The sire and son. But after some delay 
Her story told. 

Old Luther Milbray, when 
Occasion serv'd, reveal'd what had occurr'd 
In absence of the twain. Related how 
Three strangers at his mill appear'd. And how 
The leading man, in soldier dress, sought, so he 
Said, his brother. That he was a Scot ; 
Ador'd by all his kin, and whose return 
Would warm up many hearts. From his description., 
He, Luther Milbray, believ'd his neighbor 
On the cliff, to be the missing man. He 
Therefore gladly to the seeker, pointed 
The footpath out, that led up to Culloden. 
This, thanking the miller for his timely 
Aid, the party took. 

One of the men, the 
Miller said, was stout and rough, and sinister 
In mien, with portion of one ear, the left 
He thought, cut off 



40 SIDNEY LEAR. 

" And sabre wound above 
The brow?" cried Sidney, with a start. 

" Just so ; 
And eyelid slit." 

" That is enough, I know 
Him sadly well." 

" One matter makes me doubt 
If Hubert was the man he sought, though Hubert 
Tallied with description. It was another 
Name he mention'd," Luther further said. 
" What name?" 

" He call'd it Lear." 

"How?" 

" Malcom Lear." 
" Heav'n help me ! " Sidnc\- cried, hiding her face 
In trembling hands. 

Some anxious moments pass'd 
With those who watch'd. 

" O ! why, why was I so 
Blind 1" was her appeal. " This was my father ! 



SIDNEY LEAR. 4 1 

So long, long lost! And found and lost again ! 
And why this other name ? 

" Parted from him 
When I was three years old, how could I know 
Him now ! Stephen, what shall I do ? " 

" Leave it 
To me. I '11 follow the gang and rescue him." 
" They have too much the start," the father urg'd. 
"O! that maybe!" sighed out the girl. 

" Not so. 
I can outstrip their pace. I '11 start before 
The sun is up. Jock shall attend me." 

"So 
Will I. I 'm strong and eager." 

" No, my girl ;" 
Said Luther, " no. The way is rough and long. 
Stay you with me. Now let 's to bed, as Stephen 
Must have rest." 

At early dawn the youth went 
Forth. By Jock attended, hasty were his 

(6) 



42 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Steps along the warrior path. Rugged the 

Way, but green and fancy-girt the silent 

Woods. The cautious, hiding thrush, with silv'ry 

Tone unmatched, cheering the lone walk. And so, 

Scaling the rocky heights and plunging through 

Laurel-matted swales, by eager, ardent 

Expectation urg'd, well spent and tremulous 

Of limb, he found that which he sought. Under 

The hemlocks camp'd, where wild Tunkhanna, 

With root-dyed torrent, leaps to the nobler 

Stream, the captors were. 

Imi)atient waiting 
For the midnight watch, he mark'd how Hubert, 
Fetter'd, for the night, was plac'd. Then creeping 
On them, at the proper hour, the fire low burnt, 
Wak'd up the capti\-e. Effort in \ain was 
Made to wrench the links of steel. Then sudden 
Rising, with imprudent haste, the pris'ner 
Trod upon the leader's foot. Up bolted 
All the three with shouts; that Jock, with ill-tim'd 



SIDNEY LEAR. 43 

Fury, echoed with barkin^^ clamour; and 

Wild confusion rei^m'd. Jock, with a bullet 

In his jaw, fell to the rear. Another 

Ball whizzed harmless through the brim of Stephen's 

Cap. Meanwhile four brawny arms hurl'd Hubert 

To the ground. But Stephen, in the melee, 

Found shelter in the shrouding woods. 

Pausing, 
He heard some cruel words ; harsh epithets 
And ribald badinage heap'd on the Scot. 
But heard him call aloud : " Stephen ? — Stephen ! 
Ye hae my thonks — my heartworm thonks, 
An' mair, I gie ye a' I own. Tak' a'. 
An' welcome, Stephen. Tak' ye the biggin. 
An' a' that 's in 't. Nae langcr shall I need 
The scrimpit hut, or ony ither thing, 
But hope o' grace, in this sair worl'. Ye ken 
This filthy, murd'rous villain, Felix Mull, 
Hae grippit me at last. Sac guid-by ; a 
Lang guidby. braw lad. For this night's deed I 



44 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Gie ye muckle thonks. Speak o' me to the 
Bonny lass — the Laird be wi' her. Tak' ye 
The biggin at Culloden, as yer ain. 
Jock also, an' the byre, an' crummock, too. 
My blessin' on ye, Stephen, an' the lass. 
Sae tell her, if ye please. I wad say mair 
But for this villain, Felix Mull — deil roast 
Him in the brimstane pit." 

" And Stephen — 
Mr. Stephen," cried the leader, mocking; 
" I 'II put a few words in your ear, sweet Stephen. 
The next thing, Stephen, that your lordship hears, 
Will be, that this old gabbling felon will 
Be stretching hemp. He 's a ri[)e malefactor; 
Pretty Stephen. But soon the halter will 
Stop his croaking, Stephen. So, my docile 
Stephen, plastic Stephen, take my fond advice. 
And the same to your dog, dear Stephen. And 
Now begone." 

Discomfitted the lad return'd ; 



SIDNEY LEAR. 45 

And to the shudd'ring girl told what had chanc'd. 
How he had reach'd the party's camp ; had watch'd 
Them at their mess; how, weari'd, all had sank 
To sleep; and how, at last, the venture made 
For rescue, fail'd. But when the sad narration 
Reach'd the ribald terms heap'd on the captive, 
Sudden the girl rose up ; and, pale of face, 
With wav'ring gait and not a spoken word, 
Pass'd out, seeking her chamber's solitude. 
No one was there next morn, nor had the -bed 
Been press'd. A brief note on the table laid, 
And thus it ran : 

" For Stephen. 

" Naught but adieu. 
'' A felon s daughter may have that much freedom. 
" If you can, I beg you, pardon. Forgive — 
" And from your heart and mem'ry blot me out. 
" I am to you, henceforward, nothing. And 
" All I ask of this cold, cheerless world 's a 
" Hiding-place. I won't disgrace you, Stephen, 



46 SIDNEY LEAR. 

" For I love you. Be these hot tears, that will 
" Not cease, my witnesses." 

The stricken, heartsick 
Lad would not to Hubert's hut. The father 
Went alone. Rcturninc^, brought the wounded 
Dog, and, in the old soldier knapsack found. 
Two hundred pounds in gold. 

The wear\' month. 
Of endless days, lagg'd on. What good is there to 
Him who cannot eat nor sleep ? The parent's 
Ling'ring hope, companion'd b\- alarm, at 
Length died out. The doctor came. Duly in form 
Withdrew his glove — felt the swift pulse — blink'd at 
The coated tongue — thump'd hard the breast, and 
■ Divers questions put. In self-communion 
Deep, trod silently the floor — nibbled his 
Cane, as through the window peering out ; the 
Meanwhile whistling low a snatch of song. At 
Length the anxious parent was address'd. 

" Sir. 



SIDNEY LEAR. 47 

List you a word. I am about to speak. 

Silence, in these cases, were to balk and 

Stifle expectation. We, the sons of 

Science, learning, art, culture refin'd, et 

Cetera, might, could or would, or would, could 

Or might, at random endless diatribe 

Exhaust. So far, so good. Let me proceed. 

Furthermore, mark, that diagnostical 

Research, by scientists invok'd, the very 

Bottom sills of matter ferrets out. Or, 

To speak plain, by means of penetration 

Stratigraphical, the causes glean of 

Bodily disease. These, in propinquity 

Array'd, lead to conclusions. You catch my drift ? 

I further, you '11 permit me. add, the present 

Case is void of physical defection. 

Thus far. What next ? We look elsewhere. Behold I 

The grace of skill ! Sir, in this case, the mind, 

Nerves, heart! — most like the last. I '11 say the last. 

Now mark. Solution — love!" 



48 SIDNEY LEAR. 

" What is your charge ?" 
Luther demanded. 

" Wait till a second, 
Third, fourth visit, and so on. Pay all at once." 
" One is enough. Name the amount. I '11 pay. 
And bid you go." 

"Sir!" 

" I '11 have quacks no more ; 
But full-bred workmen." 

" Keep your money." 

" Go." 
More dreary days and weeks, and Luther laid 
His plan. 

" My son," he said, " I ask of you 
A service." 

" Let me know it. WHiat I can, 
I '11 do." 

" A journey is in question, can 
You undertake it ? " 

"No — I cannot." 



SIDNEY LEAR. 49 

" I 

Am sorry. It might restore you. Try it." 

" Father, you know I would. But all my pow'rs 

Are wasted. No, I cannot." 

" Think of it 
Some while." 

" And to no purpose. My answer 
Would be the same. Where is 't you 'd have me go? 
Not that I could." 

" To seek old Hubert out, 
And take his money to him." 

" I '11 go." 

"Wlien?" 
" To-day — to-morrow — now." 

" But how about 
Your strength ?" 

" I '11 risk it, father. When you first 
Spoke I did not know your purpose. Yes, yes, 
I '11 go, and that to-morrow." 

Never went 



50 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Traveler more cheery forth ; nor voyager 
More ardently salute the svvcllinj^ breeze, 
On his swift hope attendant. Through rapt 
Enchantment, Stephen sail'd. On all sides 'round 
Bedizen'd rapture swcU'd. The curling waves — 
Sea-birds circling on wing'd sails — the gamb'ling fish — 
Spray, by the piercing prow wak'd from its 
Wat'ry bed — the hazy drapery 
O'erspreading all the glimm'ring sea — all in 
Ethereal vesture clad, fell blissful on 
His dreamy eyes. So steer'd he to the 
Far-off port ; where entrance was as pilgrims 
Through celestial gates. 

From the vessel's deck. 
Borne up the channel's course, the old, old world, 
But new to him, was wondcr-crown'd. At length. 
At ancient Bristol (drap'd in black for her 
Dead Chatterton, " marvelous boy ! ") the ship 
Cast anchor. 

Grudsjin<7 the fleetin^j hours, 



SIDNEY LEAR. 5 I 

Th' impatient traveler set forth. Tracing 
The Severn up, sooner than vvelcom'd, fell 
The gloaming. At the embattled entrance 
To a park, a woman, knitting, at the 
Doorway sat. He paus'd to ask the distance 
To an inn. 

" Three good, long miles." 

The answer 
Caus'd a deep-drawn sigh, 

" Yes, three long, long miles. 
And you seem weary. And the night sets in. 
'T is a long walk." 

" I am not well," humbly the youth return'd. 
" And walking has lam'd me some." 

" Faint you look. 
Come in — you cannot reach the hostel, sure. 
Come in at once. I was about to sup ; 
So you shall share with me." 

At the table. 
Learning whence the stranger came, a hundred 



52 SIDNEY LKAR. 

Questions ask'd she of the western world. Had, 
As she said, new and strani^e interest in it. 
It was quite possible she had a husband 
There. Or there, or lost upon the deep. His 
Empty boat was found. That was all. " Rumor, 
Uncertain rumor, reports him now alive. 
But all uncertain 't is. Our name is Lear. 
He was Scotch; but I am Eni^dish. My life 
Without him has been \ery drear." 

" There was 
A man," said Stephen, "of that name, I knew. 
But late it has turn'd out lie prov'd a felon. 
'T is thought he will be han^'d." 

" Not mine is he. 
He was honest. But there are many of 
The name. My daughter, wdien the rumor came. 
Went to seek lu'm." 

" This felon also had 
A daughter," said Stepiien, with bow'd head. 
" Her name is Sidney." 



SIDNEY LEAR. 53 

" Sidney ! — that 's the name 
Of mine ! Sidney Lear." 

" The one / speak of 
Liv'd on this very river, as she said ; 
The river Severn." 

" Stran<^e — exceeding- strange ! 
Your words affri<^ht nie." 

" And yet lie had 
Another name." 

" How is that ? " 

"Always known 
As Hubert Gray." 

" That has an ugly look 
Again," the woman said. " Can honest men 
Have double names ? The man / married, could 
Never thus demean his manhood." 

" Honest ? " 
The youth retorting cried; " if ever man 
Was honest, as I have cause to know, so 
Was the man I speak of, Malcom — " 



54 SIDNEY LEAK. 

" Malcom!" 
" His second name that is. 'T was Malcom Lear. 
He was my friend. Wc hunted, fish'd, and pass'd 
Much time together. He trusted me, and 
Told me all his mind. Related much of 
His adventurous life. A soldier under 
Edward — cast helpless on the sea — for j-ears 
Fast bound in Arctic ice — a price set on 
His head for treason, and to seclusion 
By an enemy chas'd. Then captur'd, and 
In chains brought hither. His daughter follow'd ; 
And now her and him I seek. Two hundred 
Pounds, his money, have I with me." 

" Can it 
Be ! — his daughter ! — .speak more of her." 
" Gladly, madam. Since childhood, so she said, 
Her days had pass'd, under tuition of 
An uncle, an English gentleman, here 
On the Severn, who, on his premises, taught 
Her to skate, and shoot, and angle." 

" Help me ! 



SIDNEY LEAR. 55 

I am dizzy ! " 

" Give mc your hand." 

" Let me 
Lie down." 

" Madam, you faint ! " 

Some minutes pass'd ; 
Anxious to Stephen, and a murm'rin<^ voice 
Was rais'd. " O ! joy, and misery combin'd ! 
It is hard to bear. How low my hope is sunk ! 
But yet a daughter — God be thank'd for that. 
Let me no more upon the other dwell. 
I pray you, help me up. So — I give you 
Many thanks. How good to feel the warmth of 
A soft hand. You are very, very kind. 
It may surprise you, if I say I know 
You. You are Stephen Milbray, 

"I would much 
Like to know how you know that?" 

"Yes, Stephen, 
I know you well." 

"How can that be ?" 



III. 

"I was not born for courts, or grave affairs; 
I pay my debts, believe, and say my prayers." 

A Highland Court of Session.s. In hi.s robe 

The Judge is seated. After time-honored 

Form the Court is opened. J lis Majesty's 

Attorney calls up a case for trial. 

The charge is treason ; Hubert is defendant. 

By order of the Court the prisoner 

Is sent for. He is brought in, a guard at 

Either arm. Placed at the bar, a moment 

Glances at the throng, then at the Minister 

Of Justice in his robe and wig. Anon, 

With sudden start, his gaze reciprocated 

From the bench, Hubert springs up. Standing 

Erect, he gi\'es in grandest form the 

Martial greeting, whereby the man in file 

Salutes the officer of rank. The Judge, 

Drawing his box, supplies his nose; and then 

With pliant nod returns the courtesy ; 



SIDNEY LEAR. 57 

And waves the prisoner to his seat again. 

"Arraign the prisoner," was his command. 

The clerk, with bill in hand, bade Hubert Vise ; 

Cleared up his throat, and entered on reading 

Of the strange production. Verbosity 

Inexorable ! Vexed repetition ! 

Averments fearful and accusing, beneath 

Elaboration whehn'd ! "S. S. — aforesaid — 

Vi et Armis — then and there — contriving. 

Devising and intending — day aforesaid — 

Peace and dignity — wickedly, falsely, 

Unlawfully and traitorously — drums, 

Trumpets, pistols, pitchforks, guns, dirks, poniards, 

Blunderbusses, clubs, bludgeons, cudgels, staves, 

And— " 

"Stap ! stap ! — haud a wee ! — in God's name 
haud 
Your tongue till I tak' wind !" old Hubert cried; 
Amaz'd and puzzled, as he had good cause, 
With all this multitudinous confusion 



58 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Of strange terms. 

CLERK. 

Wliat is the matter ? 

HUBERT. 

Matter 
Eneugh ! For, by my saul, I little ken 
What this is a' aboot.' 

JUDGE. 

Proceed. Read the 
Indictment through. 

HUBERT. 

I hae stood fire in battle ; 
But this is muckle waur. 

The clerk read on. 
But coming o'er the names of Malcom Lear, 
Otherwise call'd Hubert Gray, again the 
Prisoner sprang up. "My mon, I do na 
Care a flea for a' yeur dev'lish cant, but 
I will ne'er be ca'd by ony ither 
Name than Lear. Plain Malcom Lear. 



SIDNEY LEAR. 59 

Sae ye maun strike out your Grays an' Huberts. 
Highland born, I stan' here Malcom Lear; an' 
Na asham'd o' what my mither ca'd me." 
The name was stricken off. 

When at the end. 
The clerk read off the prosecutor's and 
Informer's name, Felix Mull. 

"Where is he?" 
Hubert ask'd. 

"Not present," the dork answer'd. 

HUBERT. 

Ycur Lairdship, I'll na further stan' on trial 
Till my accuser comes. I wad, sir, meet 
The villain face to face. 

JUDGE. 

It is your right. 
Sheriff, call Felix Mull. 

Vain was the call. 
But some one said the man was at the 
Pothouse o'er the street. There was Felix found ; 



6o SIDNEY LEAR. 

And soon, reluctant, was brought in. 

Hubert 
Stood up. " Yeur Lairdship, I hae something noo 
To say." 

JUDGE. 

If pertinent, say on. 

HUBERT. 

An' sae 
I will. Ye ken this mon ? Surely, my Laird, 
Ye maun ken wha he is. Mark ye the auld 
Cut, done by this han' ; the sabre slash that's 
On his pate; an' on his e'e ? An' how the 
Second clip, that darksome night, lop'd half his 
Ear awa' ? Sure, Col. Marr (pardon, I 
Should say. Judge), ye mind the wood by Falkirk, 
Where he an' twa mair robbers fell on ye 
At night, an' jerkit oot yer watch ; an' swoop'd 
The twenty guineas frae yer fob ? An' I, 
Hearin' yer ca' for help, cam' up in time. 
An' got yer things a' back ; an' left my mark 



SIDNEY LEAR. 



6i 



Upon his e'e an' lug ? Leuk at it, a' 

O' ye. Ye mind, this a' is true as gospel, 

Col. Marr? 

JUDGE. 

Proceed with the trial. Call 
The witnesses. 

HUBERT. 

I hae mair to tell. 

JUDGE. 



Well. 



What more ? 



HUBERT. 

This, yer Lairdship. It is not for 
Law an' justice this thief hae chas'd me doon — 
For fifteen years shut meawa' frae hamc, 
An' wife an' babe — an' three year o' the time, 
The weary, lanesome time, coop'd in the ice 
An' snaws far up the north — broke in my hut 
Across the sea, an' draggit me in chains 
For trial on my native sod. Na, na. 



62 SIDNEY LEAR. 

My Laird, not for the guid o' law, but for 
The thousand pund set on my head ; this head 
Now white in years, or on or aff the body. 
Or on or aff the body, Col. Marr, 
Mark that ! 

JUDGE. 

We have heard you. Let the trial 
Now proceed. 

HUBERT. 

First, ye ur Lairdship, I wad ask 
What I am charg'd wi'. I could na understan' 
This mon read ower. 

JUDGE. 

You have right to know. 
'Tis simply this : That you, Malcom Lear, or 
Otherwise called— 

HUBERT. 

Na — na — not otherwise. 
I '11 na alloo yeu. Col., to ca' me aught 
But Malcom Lear. 



SIDNEY LEAR. 63 

JUDGE. 

Well, then ; that Malcom Lear, 
Yourself that is, fought in the Highland ranks 
For Charles, the false pretender, and — 

HUBERT. 

An' sae yer Laird^hip did ; but at Culloden, 
Ye nae ca'd him false. An' I maun answer 
For ye, before God an' mon, right vveel ye 
Fought. I'll ne'er forget it. 

JUDGE. 

Let me proceed. 
'T is further charg'd, against you, that you helped 
The flying Prince in his escape. 

HUBERT. 

Ane night, 
Ane gloomy night, hot press'd, shelter we found 
In yer ain house, my Laird. The weary King 
Thankit ye for it, amaist upon his knees. 
Ah ! puir Charlie ! 



64 SIDNEY LEAR. 

JUDGE. 

Don't interrupt me more. 
Sit down. There's one thing farther charg'd. You 

help'd 
The fugitive on board the ship, whereby 
He 'scaped to France. The Clerk will now conclude 
The legal forms. 

CLERK. 

Malcom Lear, the charges 
Being within your hearing read, say you, 
Are you guilty, or not guilty? 

HUBERT. 

Guilty ! 
The Lears o' Scotland, a hundred years an' mair, 
Hae ne'er till now met sic' insulting word. 
Ca' ye it guilty to lo'e the lawfu' King, 
An* rally to his standard ? Sae did I, 
A Captain o' that day. My braw,braw 
Highland lads march'd under Col. Marr 
To Preston Pans. I set my life upon 



SIDNEY LEAR. 65 

The stake, an' ventur'd a' for Charlie. 
Ah ! when the northern clansmen brave, to 
Music o' the pipes cam' o'er the moor, an' 
He, the Royal Laddie at their head, think 
Ye that Malcom Lear wad in his biggin 
Skulk an' hide ? Na, na, my Laird, an' you, 
My fellow kinsmon here to-day, I cast 
My bonnet up wi' a' the rest, an' march'd 
Awa' wi' Charlie. Na, na, I'll spak' the 
Truth, for weal or wo' ; wi' heart on fire, an' 
Claymore drawn, I wad to-day as then, wi' 
Trust in God, in' aid o' Scotland's right, march ' 
On again wi' Charlie, 

Resounding 
From a voice amid the crowd, the whole 
Assemblage joining madly in, burst forth : 

" There's news from Moidart cam' yestreen, 

Will soon gar mony farlie. 
For ships of war hae just come in, 

And landed Royal Charlie ; 

(9) 



66 SIDNEY LKAR. 

Come thro' the heather, 
Around him gither, 
Ye 're a' the welcomer early ; 
Come round him cling 
Wi' a' yer kin, 
For wha '11 be King but Charlie ? 
Come through the heather, 
Around him gither, 
Come Ronald, come Donald, 
Come a' the gither, 
An' crown your rightful, lawful King, 
For wha'll be King but Charlie?" 
Fre that the song was done two Highlanders 
In kilt and plaid, long since on Hubert's 
Muster roll, rush'd forth 'mid waiving caps and 
Shouts, and arms aloft, and caught their honor'd 
Leader up. 

In vain the Sheriff with his 
Baton order'd peace. 'Twas the eruption 
Of a fire pent long in Scottish hearts ; 



SIDNEY LEAR. 6/ 

Embers of "45 " relum'd. The sitting 

Justice, his ermine overlooked, a 

Guilty moisture stealing on his eyes, leans 

To the boist'rous throng, breathing a smother'd 

Whisper of acclaim. Scraps of song heighten 

The roar of tumult until, more potent 

Than the Sheriff's staff, confusion sinks 

Before a woman's cry. 'Tis Hubert's wife's; 

Pulling the husband from his lionor'd perch 

With trenchant sobs of joy. Save sympathy's 

Low murmur, silence reigns. 

Once more a court. 
Disorder's head bows to authority. 
Sternly brief the Judge's mandates. " Sheriff, 
The prisoner is remanded. This man, 
Felix Mull, take into custody. Hold him 
For trial at the present session. Crier, 
Adjourn the court until to-morrow." 

At night the jailor enters Hubert's cell, 



68 SIDNEY LEAK. 

With clieerful grcetinij : " Hech nion ! I vvonncr 
What ye '11 be sayin' now !" 

" Awa' wi' ye!" 
The testy answer comes. " What brings ye here ? 
Cannaa mon wi' ane foot on the gallows' 
Steps be safe frae sic a coof ? What say I 
Now ? An' I say ony thing it is to 
Bid ye gang, an' lea'e me to my thoughts." 

" Leuk 
At that now ! " and on the pris'ncr's cot 
Pours out a heap of gold. "Gowd, gowd, a' gowd ! " 
" Tak' it awa'," cried the impatient Hubert. 
" 'Tis na mine." 

" It is." 

" A lie — a strappan lie. 
Be aff, and tak' it wi' ye." 

" Hearken, 
A word or twa, m}^ mon. Do n't fret yoursel'. 
A lad cam' wi' the gowd." 

" I care na for 't." 



SIDNEV LEAR. gg 

"A winsome lad; an' fiac America." 
" Anither lie," said Hubert. 

" His name 's Stephen." 
" "^''o^^^ •— y^ hae troubled me eneugh. Be aff 
Wi' a' yer clatter an' yer gowd, an' let me 
Sleep a while. The morrow maun be met, 
An' after that, nae need there '11 be for gowd." 
"To my mind, ye 're a willfu', stubborn carl," 
The jailor said. " I tell ye that the gowd 
Is yours." 

" Had I this iron tackle frae 
My wrists, I 'd slap yer chaps. Sae git ye gane." 
"A fretfu', badg'rin, crabbit carl ye are," 
The jailor said. 

" Weel ; an' there be mair sic 
Filthy fother in yer crap, for Gude sake 
Haud it fast." 

" Did I na tell ye ? Stephen 
Is at the door! Come in— come in, my lad." 
" Can I trust my een !— 't is sae, by a' the 



yO SIDNEY LKAK. 

Pow'rs aboon ! — lad ! — I scarce hae words 
To speak ! Ho ! for Culloden ance again ! 
Ah, lad, the blissfu' days! — but ganc, foriver 
Ganc! The villain Mull hac dragg'd me doon. 
An' now the cruel la' hac grippit me, 
An' few mair suns will shine upo' my path. 
Tell me. Stephen, how cam' ye here?" 

" To bring 
Your gold. My father sent me." 

"There now !" the 
Jailor cried. " Did I na tell )'e ?" 

" I ask 
Yer pardon. Sae ye did." 

" Two hundred pounds," 
Said Stephen. "Pray you count it." 

" Na, what need 
O' counting ? Sit yet doon. I 've mony things 
To spier about. An' o' the lass — bonny 
Lass? How mucklc hae I tlunight o' her! 
Sidney, the winsome lassie ? " 



SIDNEY LEAK. "J I 

" A wond'rous 
Thing of her." 

" Tell it." 

" I doubt that you can 
Hear it told." 

" Speak on my lad. If e'en nae 
Guid I Ml hear it. I hac gane through .sic woe.s 
O' late, not death itsel' can move me mair. 
Speak ye on." 

" She is your daughter." 

" Stap — stap ! 
Na trifle wi' a mon, sae near the door 
O' doom. It is nae j^ should je.st." 

" On my 
Honor, it is the truth. Believe me, she is 
Sidney Lear." 

" I maun believe it, Stephen, 
An' I maun. But be it joy or wae, I 
Canna judge. O, lad ! .sae late to ken it! 
Wad that sooner sic rare news had come. Fate ! — 



72 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Fate! — that I should be sae blind ! Why iver 
Were these een set in my head ? " 

" Time is up," 
The jailor said. " Time now to mak' a' fast. 
Come wi' me, lad. At morn ye can talk mair. 
Come, lad." 

At midnight hour the jailor's 
Cautious entrance rous'd the sleeper up. "Hech! — 
Mon !" — he spoke, " ope' yer een a bit. A word 
Or twa between oursel's." 

" Could ye na wait 
Till morn ? What is it?" 

" Freedom is verra 
Dear, or nae ?" 

" Aye — verra, verra dear." 
" A' a mon has he parts wi', but to get it? " 
" Jailor, that 's ower true. Yes — for my ain sel', 
(I speak the truth), what gear the Laird hae cast 
Into my han', but naething is to freedom." 
" Mair than eneugh ye hae to buy it." 



SIDNEY LEAR. 73 

"How ! 
I dinna see 't." 

" Mail" than eneugh, I say. 
I '11 tell ye in a word, if sae ye wish." 
"Speak on. Ye hae my thanks. If there 's a way 
To steer frae further ills, what is it?" 

" Fly." 
"How can that be ? I canna, if I wad. 
Break through yer bolts and bars. What pow'r but 

that 
O' la' can find a way ? " 

" Gowd." 

" What gowd ?" 

" What?— 
Yer ain. It lies there by yer side." 

" Tell me, 
Jailor, is it in jest ye speak? " 

" Na, sir, 
Not I. I am nae mon o' jest." 

" How much, 

(lo) 



74 SIDNEY LEAR. 

To turn the bolts ? Ye see the ^owd here lies. 
How muckle o' the pile ? " 

" Is not sae great 
A service worth the hale ? " 

" Na." 

" Then I tak' 
Twa parts an' Ica'eanc? " 

" Na — na." 

" I wad na 
Be unjust in the division, nion ; it's 
Na mysel' wad tak' undue advantage 
O' anither. Na, na ; strict honesty 
Hae iver been my creed." 

"I 'm ower glad 
To hear you say it. But frien' how about 
Yeraith of office? Were ye na .sworn to 
Strict fidelity ?" 

" Ne'er ye niin' that. Lea'e 
That to me." 
" But I 'II na lea'e 't to ye, sir; 



SIDNEY LEAK. 75 

Na, not I. The Court to-morrow shall hear 
A' about it. For govvd ye 'd break yer aith 
An' let me rin ? Deceitfu', de'il-begotten 
Villain ! Unbolt ycr doors for govvd? Think ye, 
Vile coof, I 'd rin, though a' yer bolts were drawn ? 
I ? — who listen'd to the pibroch's peal in 
Edward's ranks ? Rin awa ! Na, by my saul, 
I haud my honor higher than my life. 
Rin ! — I '11 stay to see the trial out. If 
The la' asks my head, let the la' tak' it. 
But, an' the la' fail, ye 'II see a Highlander 
March frae the Court, grand as a king in purple. 
Now gang. Na mair I '11 bear your sight. Awa !" 

The morrow followed, and the case was called. 
No witness in the Crown's behalf appeared. 
The jury, therefore, rendered a verdict 
Of acquittal. Malcom Lear, by public 
Proclamation was discharg'd. And that night 
Malcom and wife and Stephen Milbray, 



76 _ • SIDNKY I.EAR. 

Wonder-thriU'd, sat down to supper at the 

Judge's table. Long talks of forays, battles, 

Skirmishes and fields of conflict lost or won. 

Of Scottish noblemen, by Parliament 

Attainted ; of Lovat, Balmerino, 

And Kilmarnock on the gor\- block. 

In chronologic order, ardent in 

Detail, the Royal cause reliv'd. Landing 

On Scottish soil of the last scion of 

The Kingly line of Stuart. Bonfires 

Ablaze on Caledonia's peaks. The 

Highland muster — growing ranks — the onward 

March — the victors' standard rais'd on captur'd 

Perth. Thence on to hurl the British lion 

From Scotia's Capital ; and foe o'erwhelm'd 

At Preston Pans. Thence, crown'd with martial fame. 

Crossing the border to the pibroch's strain. 

To tread the soil of Britain. Then i^'alkirk ! 

And, alas ! fatal Culloden Moor. 



IV. 

" Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean — roll ! 
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, 
Calm or convuls'd — in breeze, or gale, or storm. 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime. 
Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime ! " 

Six days more stay'd Malcom in the Fatherland. 
Meanwhile the Sessions sat, and Fehx Mull, 
Condemn'd on Malcom's evidence, was sentenc'd 
To the hangman's noose. Sorry equivalent. 
In lieu of Majesty's reward, set on 
The vet'ran's head. 

But all this while, Sidney, 
So anxiously awaited, had not come. 
The three set forth. Come to the British port. 
Question was asked about the " Mermaid," vessel 
That Sidney took. Unwelcome answer came. 
Not come to port ; but rumor of her had. 
She was, 'twas fear'd, as many crafts before. 



78 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Made victim of the pirates ; pitiless 
Successors of the buccaneers, ocean's 
Worst scourge. 

O'crwrought w ith apprehension, and 
Heartsick, the party sailed. Controlling 
Destiny led to the Western world. The 
Voyage began in gloom. On the taffrail 
Standing, borne onward b\- the breeze, moist vision 
Scann'd reluctant fair Albion's sinking shores. 
When morning came, wide spread on ev'ry hand, 
Alone the restless sea. 

On speeds the ship, 
Bound for the Cuban Isle ; thence, to cast anchor 
In the Hudson's mouth. At last the tropics 
Reached. All-wondrous land! Born of the sun, and 
Nurtur'd by the sea. How beaut\- wraps her 
Robes about the SyKan Isles ! Spice-laden 
Winds, proud of their burden, curl through the 
Waving orange groves. In the green forest 
Bouehs, <'av tinted birds, like fitful flames, blaze 



SIDNEY LEAR. 



79 



On the raptur'd sight. Fruits, various hued, 
Pendant in rich array, tempt the prone 
Appetite. The giant pahn, pride of the 
Land, with tow'ring trunk and leafy turban 
Crown'd, stands monarch of the ch'me. 

Havana \ 

Caribbean's regal mistress, comes to view. 

Aloft her frowning battlements stand guard 

Above the narrow, rock-girt channel, a 

Harbor leading to, unparallel'd in 

All the world. But sudden the hope of 

Entrance failed. 

Up the Bahama channel 

Came the hurricane, grand king of terrors ! 

Wild, raging havoc spread along the 

Cuban shores. Fell minister of ruin ! 

Whose fierce rage unbounded devastation 

Can alone appease. Quick on the vessel 

Of our vo^-agers it fell. Down, broken, 

Went the mast. Dismantled sails, to shreds. The 



80 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Helmsman from the rudder blown ; the stricken 
Ship, a toy in such rude hands, pluni^'d onward 
Uncontroll'd. Onward — plunging in foam, the 
Bark was driv^cn. On, on, through waters, once 
The intrepid Cortes, lur'd by conquest, plough'd ; 
Until, where floral Florida flings on the gulf 
Her fringe of coral isles, forlorn the x-essel 
Drifted. The tempest lull'd. But other ills 
Succeeded. 

From out a dim, secluded 
Estuary, a score of men, in armor 
Clad, unshaven beards, slouch'd hats, and 
Gaudy, ludicrous attire, hurried in 
Swift approach. Standing upon the bow, 
Cutlass in hand, girted with silken sash, 
And features stern, the pirate captain stood. 
Nearer the boat, and then his blatant voice 
Made hail. 

"What ship?" 

" The Albatross," reply 



SIDNEY LEAR. 8 I 

Was <jiven. 

" From what port ? " 

" London." 

" How freighted, 
And where bound ? " 

" Woolens — cotton fabrics — silks 
And merchants' stores. Bound for Havana and 
The colonies." 

" What treasure ? " 

" None." 

" Under 
Hatches send your crew. And by that stanchion 
Stand you in quiet." 

Up o'er the gunwale 
Rush'd the boist'rous gang — inexorable, 
Bloodstain'd captors. 

Pris'ners on shore, the day 
Dragg'd weary in the captives' cell. Morning, 
Howe'er, brought theme for comment forth. Sidney, 
Upon a mustang, garnish'd in silken 



82 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Housing, stirrups and bridle-bit of gold, 
Rode down the street, attended by a slave. 
Thrill'd with joy, the watchers at the casement 
Welcom'd her approach. Once the barr'd window 
Reach 'd, a moment eyes met eyes. The mother 
Sobb'd aloud — Malcom shouted — but Stephen 
Silent blush'd. A frown flew quick to Sidney's 
Brow. The spur sank in the palfry's flank ; and 
Rider and steed were gone. 

Silent the three 
Sat down; vacantly staring into each 
Other's eyes. After a painful minute, 
Malcom spoke : 

" Wha would hae thought it ! UncO" 
Strange it is ! Weel, weel, ane thing is certain — 
She is na bairn o' mine. Na, na ; I say 
Nae bluid o' Malcom Lear rins through sic hauty 
Veins. Na, na. Let the hizzy gang." 

" I am 
Bewilder'd — bewilder'd!" groan'd the mother. 



SIDNEY LEAR. 83 

■" Is this possible? Oh ! — oh, my daughter ! " 
" 'Tis that /am here," in deep depression 
Stephen said. 

" Hout ! — hout ! — what now is that ? " the 
Scot exclaim'd. " Na mair sic twaddahn, lad. I 
Ken right weel, and ye can nae deny it, 
Ye twa, the lass an' ye, are boun' in ban's 
O' love. I will nae listen to sic talk." 
The other answer'd not. And so, long silent 
And dishearten'd mus'd they all. 

The dusky 
Twilight fell ; and to the grated window 
Came a negro girl with flow'rs and fruits. Some 
Were bought. One orange, as a gift, she put 
In hand of Malcom's wife. 

" In truth we hae 
Na muckle appetite the day," he said. 
When gone the dusky vender ; " but mindfu' 
O' due courtesy, we maun taste her gift." 
Breaking the yellow rind, only a note 



84 SIDNEY LKAR. 

Was found within. 

" Mother, beware ! I beg 
You, seem to know me not. 'T were fatal to 
Us all if otherwise. Mark well my words. 
La Garde, the monster, has me in his toils, 
h^nslav'd, tormented, that I refuse what 
I can ne'er bestow — my hand. More shall you 
Daily hear." 

No more for gloomy days the 
Palfrey with its rider pass'd. Despondent 
Beat the mother's heart ; and Stephen could not 
Sleep. At last a letter came. 

" Bear up — have 
Hope. Put trust in God. The hour has come. My 
Maid, who brings the fruit and flowers, an angel 
Proves. She has by toying dalliance won 
Entrance to the warden's heart, and access 
To his keys. My groom, her lover, have I 
Brib'd with my last coin. Sleep not. At midnight 
Utter no word to one who shoots your dungeon 



SIDNEY LEAR. 85 

Bolt. Be silent and obey." 

High and far 
Reaching, grand Cordilleras ! Thy peaks of 
Snow were landmarks of a mighty, martial, 
And primeval line of kings. Within thy 
Mountain esplanades, deep dented, rock-bound 
And lake adorn'd ; home of the Aztec, native 
Born, imperial lord! Erewhile, supreme 
Dictator of a continent; follow'd 
By destiny most low. 

From mountain heights 
The cooling breeze descended ; skimming the 
Glassy surface of the gulf, to fill the 
Sail of Sidney's tiny craft. This, darting 
In sable night from out the port, her groom 
At helm, steer'd for the Everglades. And none 
Too soon. Lights flash'd around the prison walls ; 
Flickered along the streets and avenues. 
And on the pebbly shore. The bloodhounds' cry 



86 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Anon rose on the air; and brisk commotion 
Was astir. 

Soon dipping oars, with rapid 
Stroke, were heard ; then, in full earnest was 
The race begun. Once in the tangled brakes 
And reedy cypress swamps, and shelt'ring moss 
Low hanging from the sturdy oaks, safety 
Were won. 

But listen ! — more plashing oars at 
Play! — exulting shouts arise! — the frighten'd 
Fugitives descried at last ! 

Chub, the groom, 
Over his shoulder darts one hasty glance. 
Commander now, his orders brief; Malcom 
And Stephen put to new-plac'd oars — the helm 
To Sidney — her maid, Cassandra, to a 
Paddle — himself, with lusty will, tacking. 
Sail shifting, rowing, and whatever else. 
As peril prompts. 

Nearer and louder, the 



SIDNEY LEAR. 87 

Pursuing band. The breeze a trifle slacks. 
Malcom and Stephen tire. The former's wife, 
With terror overvvhelm'd, sinks fainting down. 
Which side will win ? 



" If there he any deeper deep, 

Or lower level found ; 
Kind Heav'n in gracious mercy keep 
The secret in an endless sleep, 

Or fence the fatal ground." 

MiLBRAY, the miller, at his hopper sitting, 
Obsequious was greeted by a youth 
And girl, strangers to hini, both clouded with 
The Afric tint. The former spoke. 

.SINTON. 

Is yo' 
Name Middleberr\', sah ? 

lATIIKR. 

No, that 's not my 
Name. 

SINTON. 

Sartain — .sartain, de nuis be de mill ! 
Not Middleberry ? Suah, is yo' ? 



SIDNEY LEAR. 89 

LUTHER. 

Why, yes. 
Do n't a man know his name ? Pray, what is yours ? 

SINTON. 

Chub, sah. Sinton Chub. 

LUTHER. 

Rather fishy. But 
No matter. Is this your sister ? 

SINTON. 

No, sah. 

LUTHER. 

What then ? 

CASSANDRA. 

It do look cur'us like — yes sah. 
But dar 's noddin 'spicious 'bout it, sah. We's 
Not married yet, sah, so to speak — 

SINTON. 

Which am 

De trufe. Yes, sah, de solomn trufe. 

(12) 



90 SIDNEY LEAR. 

LUTHER. 

Most like. 
Your name ? Are you another Chub ? 

CASSANDRA. 

No, sah. 
I 'se Ca.ssandra. My mammy was Cassandra. 
De captain ob de ship nam'd lier Cassandra. 
She tole me dat. 

LUTHER. 

Yes. You 've got a father ? 

CASSANDRA. 

Dunno. De fuss one, mammy say, " nebber 
Yo' ax 'bout him, Cassandra. I get yo' 
Nudder." 

LUTHER. 

So. Got you another, did she ? 

CASSANDRA. 

Well, sah, to tell de trufe, de las' one I 
VVoulden hab. And, sah, I runn'd away. And 
Mass" La Garde he kotch me in de canebrake. 



SIDNEY LEAR. 9I 

Den gib me way to Mistis Sidney, sah. 

LUTHER. 

All very good. And now your business here? 

SINTON. 

Huntin' dis Massa Middleberry, sah. 

LUTHER. 

What for ? 

SINTON. 

'Bout his chile — 

CASSANDRA. 

Yes, sah, 'bout his chile. 
Dat 's it sah. 

LUTHER. 

About my child ? I have no child. I had 
A son grown up. 

SINTON. 

Dat 's de berry one, sah. 
Stephen. 

LUTHER. 

Yes. My son's name was Stephen. What 



92 




SIDNEY LEAK. 








Of him 


? 


SINTON. 

Dat 's it, edzackly- 

CASSANDRA. 


- 












Jes' 


dat, 


sah, 






SINTON. 








I 'se gwine to explanate de succumstance 










LUTHER. 








Well, I 


'11 hear 


• it. Go on. 

SINTON. 









Mixified ; ain't dey, Cassandra ? 

CASSANDRA. 



Hn^^s a good bit 



Dat dey is. 

SINTON. 

And whar Mass' Stephen is jes' 
Now, de Lor' ony doan know whar ! Some way, 
Sah, I doan know how, but trufe is, weso got 
Misticated in de swamp. And sah. Mass' 



SIDNEY LEAR. 93 

Stephen, and ole Mass' Lear — 

CASSANDRA. 

An' his olc woman — 

SINTON. 

T^es, sah ; she, too, likewise, as Cassandra say — 

CASSANDRA. 

An' Mistis Sidney, sah — 

SINTON. 

Get los' in swamp. 

LUTHER. 

What swamp was it ? 

SINTON. 

'Way down souf, sah. 

CASSANDRA. 

Yes, sah; dat's whar ; jes' as Sinton tell yo*. 

LUTHER. 

Has the swamp a name ? 

SINTON. 

De Ebberglades, sah. 



94 SIDNEY LEAR. 

LUTHER. 

Why, boy. they arc in I^^lorida. 

SINTON. 

Jes' dar. 

LUTHER. 

Tell me. what were they doing there? 

SINTON. 

Well, sah, 
De .ship, in mightiful big blow, widout 
Her sail or mas', driff berry close to sho' 
An' pirate kotch her — 

CASSANDRA. 

Yes, sah — 

SINTON. 

De pirate, 
Sah, what am La Garde, an' — 

CASSANDRA. 

He lock 'em up 
In jail. 



SIDNEY LEAR. 95 

LUTHER. 

How ? — lock'd them in jail ? 

SINTON. 

Dat he did. 
An' in some cu'ous way, sah, in de dark — 

CASSANDRA. 

Berry dark, sah — 

SINTON. 

Dey all get out — 

CASSANDRA. 

Yes sah ; 
An' runn'd away — 

SINTON. 

In de cockboat — 

CASSANDRA. 

Fas' as 
Ebber we could. 

SINTON. 

Jes' as Cassandra say ! 
But biemby we heah de oa's behine us — 



96 SIDNEY LEAR. 

CASSANDRA. 

An' mos' up ! — 

SINTON. 

An' den I 'se look back, an' hi [ 
De mo.s' on us suah ! — 

CASSANDRA. 

So dey was, sah ! — 

SINTON. 

An' den all sprinj^ to fo' life ! — 

CASSANDRA. 

Kase, sah, wese 
Mos' kotch'd! 

SINTON. 

Jes' den, bress de Lor'! 

CASSANDRA. 

Hi ! hi ! jes' den ! — 

SINTON. 

De catspaw come — whew ! — cockboat leff 'em in 
A jiffy! 



SIDNEY LEAR. 



97 



CASSANDRA. 

Glory ! — tank de Lor' ! Yes, sah, 
Jes' as Sinton say. An' den, sah, wese all 
Hide in de swamp, an' doan git kotch'd. An' Mars 
Stephen say, ef wese doan stick togedder, 
Den wese mus' come heah. 

A brief month sped, 
And two wayworn travelers, with garments soil'd 
And sun burn'd faces, threading the forest 
Path, drew near Culloden Brae. Ascending smoke 
In goodly column, was from the chimney curling. 

" Sidney, lass," spoke one of them ; " what 
Ken ye this a' means ? Did ye not say the 
Biggin was clos'd up ? " 

" I thought it was." 

" Weel, 
Let 's see about the matter. Some deviltry 's 
Afoot, na doubt. We '11 see to 't." 

Ent'ring, no 

(13) 



■90 SIDNEV LEAK. 

One was found. A fire blaz'd on the hearth. The 

Simple household wares, as Malcom left them, 

Were all in place. TurniuL^ away, to seek 

Out Luther at his mill, their presence was 

Discover'd. At the doorway, ere he was 

Aware, Jock, with his paws on Malcom's breast. 

Was howlini^ joyful welcome. Layintj his 

Staff aside, the master sat, and conf 'rence 

With his old companion had. How much a 

Dog may know, or glean from human speech, has 

Not by zoologic doctors been found out. 

Bat Jock drank at the wordy tide, with wild, 

Enthusiastic glee. Then at his side 

As erst, the three set forth to join their friend 

Upon the Connawasset. 

Meeting on the 
Way a forester they knew, 't was told to them 
How a pair of negro vagrants had their 
Dwelling seiz'd upon. 

" Hech ! — neebor ! how is 't 



SIDNEY LEAR. 99. 

VVi' ye mon ? " — the least expected hail to 

Luther, wrapt in silent musings at his 

Hopper. " Gie us yer hond ance mair ; an' think 

Nae it is strikin' loofs wi' guilty felon. 

Na — na. The la' hae wip'd the vile su.spicion 

Out ; an' here ye leuk upo' a clean 

Unspotted man. Aye, sir, and not asham'd 

To walk the street by day or night. Ye see me, 

Neebor Luther, straight up, an' open front 

To greet ye. Sae, shake on, auld friend, I lo'e 

A guid Strang grip. 

" An ken ye nae the lass, 
Ance rinnin' mickle o'er the bracken hills ? " 
** Sure. Well I remember her." 

" The bonny 
Lassie ca's ni^ father now. Sae ye see, 
Guid luck hae foun' me out. An' to be here 
Again ! Troth, mon ! I ne'er expectit to 
Leuk upo' yer face again, or tread 
Culloden Brae. Now I hae done them baith. 



lOO SIDNEY LEAR. 

An' now anither matter. How is it, mon, 
Ye let twa blackamoors into the biggin ? 
It stirs my verra bluid." 

" Mayhap they had 
No other place," said Luther. 

" Then tell me 
If ye can, where Sidney an' mysel' can 
Pass the night ? " 

" Here, in my house." 

" Tak' my thanks. 
But I say, I '11 ne'er alloo the vagrant 
Blacks to cuddle in my biggin. That 's a' 
There is aboot it." 

" I understand," the 
Other said, " they are nice people." 

" I care 
Na for that. I say ance an' for a' I '11 
Na permit it. You'll ken a breeze is blawin' 
When I see the worthless trash." 

" They are at hand ; 



SIDNEY LEAR. lOI 

You can see them now." 

" Where ? " 

" In my garden. 
I '11 call them in." His halloo quick was answer'd. 
"Mars Lear! — Mars Lear!" e.xclaim'd the dusky- 
youth ; 
And rushed to Malcom. The girl spied the daughter. 
*' Mistis Sidney ! — good Lord, Mistis Sidney ! " 
And falling on her knees, weeping apace, 
Buried her face within the other's lap. 
" Weel — weel — weel ! " cried Malcom ; " wonners on 

wonners ! 
How the worl' gangs ! In a' my saxty years 
Naethin 's been like it. Bless my saul ! how is 't 
My een are wet? Laddie, I take your han' 
As though ye were a king. I ne'er afore 
Hae graspit ane wi' better will. 

" Come now, 
Lass, dinna sae mickle greet. Stan' up. Ye 
Hae an honest face, that I weel ken. Let 



I02 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Me wipe aff the tears. I ken yer rapture, 
Leiikin' on Sidney's face ; I 've felt it a' 
Mysel'." 

" Now you have seen them," Luther ask'd 
When quiet came ; " will you o'erlook their entrance 
To the house ? " 

" Nae put sic idle question. 
O'erleuk it ! They may bide in it till doom. 
It's nae half guid eneugh for people of 
Sic worth. O'erleuk ! why neebor, they maun stay 
There till their pows bleach white as yours and mine. 
Ye ken nae wha the pair o' seraphs are. 
Why, neebor Milbray, let me tell ye, I 'd 
Ony day tak' aff my cap an' bow my 
Head in rev'rance to them baith. They being, 
Let me say, the Gen'ral Jail Deliv'rers 
O' the time. 1 shall, at proper time, hae 
Mickle mair to tell ye in their prai.se. Talk 
Na o' biggins, sir, before sic noble 
Company. A' I have scrapit up in 



SIDNEY LEAR. IO3 

My hale life, these honor'd citizens are 
Freely welcome to." 

Then the two put questions 
Numberless regarding Stephen and the 
Other's wife. But of their weal or wo, naught 
Could be told. The awful Everglades the 
Secret kept. And of this dreary waste, Malcom 
Had much to say. 

" I wad na for the warl' " 
So he asserted, " Meddle at a' wi' 
Nature's handiwarks ; but in guid faith I 
Ca' this job an eldritch botch. For life o' me 
I canna tell the use o' a' the muck, 
An' stumps an' snakes ane meets wi'. And mickle 
Mair, sic roosty, rampant alligators, sir, 
Lang 's a schooner's mast. An' besides, what 's maist 
Amazin', musquito reg'ments, (blood-thirsty 
Divils !) bizzin an' skelpin around, thick as 
The simmer dust. Think o' a mon wi' head 
Puffed like a bladder, twa times its proper 



I04 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Size ! 'T wad chill yer bluid to see 't. 

" Why, neebor^ 
There 's na a mile but 's langest at the end ; 
An' where there's naethin' else but water, there's 
Na land at a'. An' ne'er a rinnin stream 
That rins ! Na big^^in, sir, where ane maun get 
A bowl (?' broose or drap o' ale. The man 's 
Best aff wha owns nae acre o' it. Sair, sair 
Trav'lin', wi' tree limbs on the ground, an' roots 
Aboon ! Leuk at my breeks ! — the verra best 
Frae Paisley looms, an' now (deil tak' the snags), 
A' ropes and strings, like fly nets on a horse. 
That I, the wonner is, should hae the breath 
O' life left in me ! Twa times chin deep in 
Mud; an' gettin' out, eneugh stuck to my 
Claes to plant a crap o' kale. I gie my 
Sacred word, a fathom deep, ane boot 's there yet. 
Sae ye '11 excuse my shamefu' plight, mair like 
A fasht ragmuffin than a sleekit, 
Decent mon." 



SIDNEY LEAR. I05 

A month — and from the absent 
Pair no news. All modes of inquiry prov'd 
Fruitless. The bereav'd must wait. But time pac'd 
Wearily. Only could action dull the point 
Of grief While Malcom rear'd a nobler 
Structure on Culloden Brae, the color'd 
Pair dwelt in his quondam hut. Sidney, 
Old tastes renew'd, with rod and feather'd hook. 
Found pastime in the Connawasset's foam ; 
Or, sportsman arm'd, trac'd the ware pheasant in 
Its sylvan haunts. Frequent paus'd, musing where 
The deer was slung, its fleshless bones now strewn 
Upon the mold ; part of the cord decay'd 
And sever'd, yet pendant from the bough. Once, 
Once only, sat upon the granite peak, 
Embalm'd in perpetuity by lovers' 
Whispered vows. 

The miller, grave of face and 
Slack of words, distraught and stricken, daily 

At his hopper sat. A man of pray'r, by 

(14) 



I06 SIDNEY LF.AR. 

Faith inspired, trusting there still was balm in 
Gilead. Nor fruitless trust. 

A wagon, 
Cushion lin'd and slowly moving, one day 
Arriv'd. A woman, wan and languid, looking 
Out, inquir'd for one call'd Milbray. The man 
Address'd made answer. Then lending aid, from 
Out the vehicle, in chief part lifted, 
A haggard form was help'd. Quickly the father 
Came. Joyful and tearful salutation ! " 
But falling on clos'd ears. . No smile, or word. 
Nor look respondent. Nothing but \apid, 
Dull flituity. 

Malcom came. Came to 
Clasp the wife in fond embrace ; and breathe 
The word of welcome in her ears. And then 
On Stephen look'd. What piercing bolt shot through 
The gen'rous, Scottish heart! No time for words 
Of social intercourse. In silence sat 
They all ; the mystic chord of sympathy 



SIDNEY LEAR. lO/ 

In Luther's grief making them one. 

Across 
The footbridge, o'er the Connawasset, Sidney 
Was coming. In unity of purpose, 
All left the room ; and told her what had chanc'd 
Without. After short conf 'rence, Sidney went 
Alone. Enter'd the room — glanced at the form 
Recumbent on the couch. Rous'd by her presence^ 
Stephen sat up. As she nearer came, stood 
On his feet. In smother'd accent came the 
Tender phrase, " My love ! " — and putting forth her 

hand. 
Oblivious of the past, nor cognizant 
Of what the action meant, a glance was cast 
Upon the proffer'd palm ; and drawing back, 
Once more stretch'd on the couch, and with averted 
Face turn'd to the wall. 

Beside that bed, the 
Wreck of the relentless typhus press'd, the 
Maid fell on her knees. 



I08 SIDNKV LKAR. 

" Divine Redeemer ! " 
So her pray'r be^an ; " make me to drink this 
■Cup, submissive to Thy will. Strengthen! — O, give 
Me strength ! proportion'd to the burden — and 
WilHng patience. This anguish, supported 
By Thy tender mercy, O, give me grace 
To bear. Meek, penitent, heartbroken, humble, 
I come to plead my cause. Let not my 
Poverty of words lessen the sum of 
Mercy it demands. Turn ill to good — 
Calamity's fast fetters break — the fallen 
Lift by Thy restoring touch. O, hear, and 
Answer, thou omnipotent, alleviating 
King! Lay to the healing virtue of Thy 
Hand, and like the hapless watcher at the 
.'Pool, the stricken one may rise." 

From this hour 
Forth, abundant occupation Sidney had. 
To one sole end and purpose all her care 
Was bent — all zeal, devotion, earnestness 



SIDNEY LEAR. IO9 

And love. Fix'd and resolute she took the 
Task in hand. By day and night the vigil 
Was prolong'd. 

A few weeks passed, and on the 
Connawasset's sylvan banks, short strolls were 
Taken. Hand in hand, the pair went forth. Few 
Words, but hers, beguil'd the fleeting hours. At 
The cool mountain springs and rivulets, and 
Under arching boughs long sitting were. 

By 
Her hand was willing service lent — the hat. 
The coat and vest brushed oft — the shoe strings 

tied — 
Fann'd was he in the summer heat — to his 
Lips the goblet held — comb'd and curl'd the newly 
Growing locks — and cautious leading over 
Rocky paths and prostrate trunks. 

Day by day 
The wand'rings lengthen'd out. Visits were made 
To high CuUoden Peak. Here, in silence 



I lO SIDNEY LEAR. 

SittiriL^, the afflict'd }^outli heard, heedless, 

All Cassandra's endless chat. Or, with the 

Vacant gaze, beheld the builders, plying 

The plane and saw. Jock, in fawning revel, 

Bade them welcome ; most pleas'd when Stephen (by 

His leader taught), plac'd his lean hand upon 

The spaniel's head. 

News — news from Scotland ! A 
Messenger from Judge Marr, who .sat at Malcom's 
Trial. By his appeal to royal clemency, 
An act accomplish'd. Restoration made 
To Malcom Lear, the oldest son, of lands 
And title, by his father forfeited. 
In taking arms to aid the cause of Charles. 
Both to be Malcom's on his return for 
Residence to Scotland. I^'ailure in this, 
Title of baron thence to be foregone. 
So ran the letter, put in Malcom's hands. 
He plac'd his specs — broke ope the seal and read 



SIDNEY LEAR. I I I 

The missive through. Then rose and drew two cups 
Of ale ; gave to the agent one, and drain'd 
Himself the other. Then turn'd to the task 
Again, for second reading. 

Silent the 
Perusal ; but voiceless lips in constant 
Play — a few words, patient spelling out — 
Redoubling on his track where doubts arose — 
The ceiling sometimes scanning with knit brows ; 
And so got to the end. 

" Puzzled a wee ; " 
With fingers in his hair — " fasht am I wi' 
This thrang o' words. I'm na ower guid at readin' 
Copyhan' ; an' chiels bred to the la' write 
Sic a han', as na the de'il himsel' can read. 
Now, as I tak' it, here 's a splether aboot 
Some lan's, an' title o' nobility ? " 
*' Yes, sir. By gracious clemency and favor 
Of King George (long may he live !) the fair estates, 
Here in the letter nam'd, now vest in you, 



112 SIDNEY LEAR. 

The eldest son, Sir Malconi Lear surviving; 
Also the title, baronial, fast by 
Prescription in the line of leal and loyal 
Subjects, your honor'd ancestors. You are 
Sir Malcom now." 

" Am I ? " question'd the other, 
" Humph ! — leuk at me ance. Think ye I mickle 
Favor a nobleman ? Saw ye e'er a 
Baron, in a' yer days, wi' shanks and breeks 
Like these? Sir Malcom, ha! — but na, Sir Malcom, 
If I gae back to Scotland not again. 
Gude knaws, I lo'e the native heather — na 
Man mair. Think ye I wad gie this noble 
Kintra up ? Maist winsome I wad say, (savin', 
As I hae cause to know, ane unco wat, 
Besplat'rin' muckholc in the South), the sun 
Has in his ee ! Na ca' ye me again. 
Sir Malcom. An' ye do, I '11 send ye back 
Wi' something mair than thanks." 

" As may be your 



SIDNEY LEAR. |I5 

Pleasure, sir. No offence was meant. Then, as 
I understand, the lands you '11 hold, but not the 
Title of a baron ? " 

" Ve may sae tell 
The Judge. An' gie him, frae me, maist gratefu' 
Thanks, for a' his trouble. I am na cauld 
At heart ; an' shall his kindness ne'er forget. 
But here, where I hae pass'd my best o' days, 
I '11 spend a' that remain. An' here my banes 
Maun rest. 

" Ye may tell my fellow sodger, 
Col. Marr, that for nine thousan" pund I '11 
Sell him a' the lands. 'Ten thousan' they are 
Worth; but ane of this, in payment o' his 
Kindness I throw aff. An' let me say, in 
Mem'ry o' companionship in arms, when, 
Wi' the must'rin Highland clans, we a' agreed 
To stand or fa' wi' royal Charlie." 



(^5) 



I 14 SIDNEY LEAR. 

When pass'd another month, Autumn was hanging 

On the forest trees her robes of splendor. 

Sidney, attendant on her charge, yet walk'd 

The woodland paths. Stephen was gaining strength. 

The meaningless expression of the eyes, 

A trifle chang'd. 

Their walk one sunny day 
Led past the tree where first they met. He gave, 
As Sidney thought, slight glimpse of recognition. 
Passing on, again they reach'd the mountain 
Peak, sacred in mem'ry held. On the same 
Ledge, as she directed, both sat down. 

With 
iMnger, but no spoken word, she pointed 
To the falls. Likewise Penobscot pointed out — 
Mount Yauger — the warrior path — the former 
Cornfields of the Nanticokes and Shawanese. 
Lastly, the stunted oak, grown through the crevice 
Of the ledge, where, on that other day, with 
Kisses and embrace, were breath 'd the vows of 



SIDNEY LEAR. II5 

Changeless love, and mutual troth. And as the 
Maiden look'd, a tear stole down the 
Other's cheek ; and for the first, his eyes now 
Fir'd with mental health, were steadfast set on 
Hers. 

" Dear love ! " impulsive, warm, came greeting 
From her lips. Stephen, as stung, recoil'd. A 
Moment, and the brief spark of intelligence 
Was out. Again the eyes swam in the old, 
Accustom'd maze. 

" Noo Sinton, lad, Cassandra 
An' yousel baith in, shut to the door. I 
Hae somewhat to tell. Mark weel my words. It 
Is o' matters potent that I speak. Observe. 
My neebor, Milbray, an' mysel' hae ca'd 
The doctor in. Leukin' the matter ower, 
The man o' pills hae order'd Stephen aff 
To ither parts. Sidney, despite a' counsel, 
Circumspection an' advisement, decides, 



1 16 SIDNEY ij:ak. 

Belike a' womankind, wi' him to g^ang. 
An' sae it rests. 

" Nog listen, baith ; here comes 
The point. We canna trust a' to her hands. 
'T wad be sair folly ; health an' strength wad fail. 
Sae, rinnin' the matter through my mind, 1 
Come to this : Ye tvva will hae to join the 
Expedition." 

" Mars Malcom ! " shouted both. 
*' E'en sae it is. Sinton maun tak' the helm. 
Muckle there '11 be to do. For a' I ken. 
Ye maun be years avva' ; an' possibly 
Gang ower the foreign lan's. 

" An' noo, observe ; 
The fountain o' m)' j^ast experience 
Tappin', I lay some lessons doon for yer 
Observance. 

" The first o' a' tak' note of this : 
Whativer maun turn up, set ne'er a foot 
In that maist blastit, gudeforsaken swamp 



SIDNEY LEAK. II 7 

In Florida. Mark that." 

" Yes, Mars Malcom." 
" Chiels o' a' kinds and breeds ye '11 meet. Beware 
O' bummers, pill venders, patent dabblers, 
Alms leeches, soap inventors an' the like. 
Na traffic hae wi' thimble riggers, mind ; 
A cannie, slidd'ry, misbegotten race. 
Leuk weel to chiels wi' ban's o' crape woun' roun' 
Their hats. In wat sheets ni\er sleep. Speak wee! 
O' kings wha's kintra ye are in. Foul if 
The water is where ye maun 'bide, drink ale. 
•Court'ous your bearing unto a' ye meet; 
But put na substance o' yer grave affairs 
In strangers lugs. Jauk na in silly gab 
Wi' frien' or foe; as I can truly witness 
For mysel', na profit foun' I iver 
Foolin' wi' farmers' dogs ; or pokin' crabbit 
Fishmonger hizzies in the ribs. Pay prompt 
Yer bills as they fa' due. Tak' change that 's neither 
Ower muckle or too sma'. To orders quick 



I I 8 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Obedience gi'e; bringing or taking messages, 
Lca'e na item out. Laugh na aloud 
Attendant at the boord, though fun enough 
There be to spht yer sides. 

" Noo, harken baith 
Bring but this couple safely back, an' ye shall 
Hae a lot o' Ian' wi' house an' byre, beds, 
Beddin', furniture, cattle an' team, an' 
A' to be yer ain." 

" Mars Malcom ! " both in 
Raptures cried. " Lord bress yo' fo' cbber, and 
Fo' ebber ! " 

" Noo, last o' a'. Attention 
Gi'e. It wad unseemly be, that ye, twa 
Yonkers, in the heat an' fire o' flesh an' 
Bluid, should, at a' times o' day or night, in 
A' conditions, situations, connections 
An' positions, be tzua instead o' atic. 
Therefore, be aff, just as ye are, hunt 
Up a minister, professor, judge, 



SIDNEY LEAR. I ig 

Justice, notary, or the like, an' hae him 
Marry ye forthwith." 

" Hi ! — hi ! " Cassandra 
Shouted. "Lor' a massy! Mars Malcom, what 
Yo' mean ? " 

" Be aff, I say; an' hae the knot 
Weel tied." 

"Cassandra!" Sinton reproachful 
Cried; " doan yo' laugh. Stop dat; and come right 

long 
Wiff me." 

"Ha! ha! — yes Sinton ; indeed I 'se go 
Wiff yo — but — " 

" Well, den, come straight." 

" Fo' de Lor', 
Mars Malcom, how is dis ? Is yo' ser'ous ? " 

" Cassandra ! " the other call'd without the door. 
" Yes, Sinton. Out do', is you ? I 'se be dar 
Right 'way. Laws ! Mars Malcom, what cu'ious man 
Yo' is! Ha! ha! ha!— nebberin my baun days— 



I20 SinNEV LEAK. 

Nebber — " 

"Cassandra! I 'se waitin'." 

" I heah 
Yo', Sinton. Mars Malcom yo' do beat all ! 
Was dar ebber sich a man befo' ! " 
" Cassandra? " 

" Yes — yes. Doan I say I come ? 
Ony to tink ! — ha ! ha ! — bress de Lor ! Where 's 
Yo' <;uine to, Sinton ? Dis do beat all, since 
I 'se baun into dis heah worl'! " 

The cov'rino snow- 
Fell fleecy on Culloden brae. The Scot 
And wife, before them Jock outstretched, sat by 
The roaring logs. Three months had now gone past 
Since Sidney left. As yet no word had come. 
However, she had, parting, said nothing 
Except good tidings need be look'd for. As 
They mus'd, Milbray, the neighbor, white with snow 
Came to the door. When, by the matron's hand 



SIDNEY LEAR. I2i 

Clean brush'd, the chair was plac'd before the cheer- 
ful 
Flame. Anon he drew a letter forth. His 
Friends both read it through. 'T was Sidney's letter. 
Written from Aberdeen ; and to the miller 
Sent. Alas !— it might as well have not been 
Sent at all. Noted physicians, English 
And Scottish both, had been consulted. All 
Of one mind : Scant hope. 

No time appointed 
For returning home. Nor would she pain them 
With another letter, bearing sad news. 
So they must wait. 

Winter! — monarch supreme 
O'er all the icy realm, twice came in pomp 
Of storm and blast, relentless tramp'Iing Autumn's 
Glory out, and in a playful gaiety 
Resplendent jewels hanging on the crags. 
Cheerless the landscape round. On the wide reaches 

(i6) 



122 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Of the snow, in devious, mazy lines, footprints 
On all sides of the forests nightly prowlers 
Stamp'd. The roaring Connawasset, pride of 
The leafy woods, but voiceless now, creeps hidden 
To the river's bed. No carol of the summer's 
Choir is heard. Lone left of all the fcather'd 
Tribes, the drumming pheasant, close shelter'd in 
The laurel clumps, distasteful fellowship 
Greets in its Arctic visitant, the owl. 
Around the sun-lit mountain peaks, in frosty 
Vesture clad, gleam in the chilly air. 
Beneath the straw-thatch'd shed the shiv'ring herd 
Is group'd ; and household bevies cluster at 
The hearth. 

Two vernal .springs — two summers came. 
And as the wild fowl, vocal overhead, 
Proclaim'd the autumn's reign, came trave'lers 
From abroad. 

The supper through, and dishes 
Put away, Malcom and wife took places 



SIDNEY LEAR. 



125 



At the hearth, listless to pass the hour. But 
Suddenly were hasty steps without. Up 
Flew the latch — the door burst ope ; and with a 
Bound Cassandra enter'd. 

" We'se come ! — we'se come ! 
O! Mars and Mistiss ! heah we is ! We'se com'd 
At las'." 

" An' glad— maist glad we are," the Scot 
Replied. " I was this vera moment rinnin' 
The matter through my min'. I 'm ower glad 
To leuk upo' yer face. But, but Cassandra, 
What, what maun the bundle be yer haudin' 
4 In yer arms ? " 

" Lor ! — Lor! Mars Malcom, why yo" 
Ax? What 's dis ?— dis heah ? Dis, dis sah, am 
Malcom Chub, sah." 

" By my sauI ! ye dinna 
Say't! Malcom Chub? I'll feel o' him. He 'II na 
Break in twa, an' I tak' hauld o' him?" 

" Lordy ! 



124 SIDNEY LEAR. 

No! Mars Malcom. You may han'Ie him rij^dit 
Smart. No break 'bout hini, sah. No, no ; jes feel 
Dat leg." 

" I see. A canny, strappan limb ! 
How 's the ither ? " 

" Jes de same, Mars Malcom. 
Jes de same. Yes, sah, edzackly. Jes yo' 
Look at it." 

" I '11 tak' yer word for 't, Cassandra. 
Let me have him." 

" Mos two yeah ole, he is. 
Now liff him up. Up wis yo' darlin'! Ain' 
He nice? " 

" Why, that 's a' true. What s[)arklin' cen ! " 
" Dat is so, and den his hand, Mars Malcom ! 
He can liff mos anyting ; so berry 
Strong in hands." 

" Yes, faith!— he 's got me by the 
Nose already." 

" Ha, ha, ha ! — dat's jes his 



SIDNEY LEAR. 1 25 

Cu'ous ways. Was dar ebber sich a chile ? " 

" Na-na. He 's tap o' the hst. Hech !— laddie ! 

Tak' yer paw out o' my mou ! " 

" Did 'n I 
Tell yo', Mars Malcom ? O, nebber, nebber 
Sich a chile !" 

" Tliere, noo .'—the wee bit villain, wi' 
Baith hans hae grabbit in my hair ! " 

" He, he, he ! 
Hole 'im off— hole 'im off! " 

Ere Malcom was 
Aware, the wond'ring travelers group'd 'round 
Him. 

Graceful the form with look benign, 
Of her the father clasp'd. Erect and noble, 
His eyes relum'd with intellectual grace. 
The man whose hand he took. No longer boy 
But man. Debility had chang'd to strength ; 
Suff 'ring to health. To healing art from bookish 
Fountain drawn, in this case may be added, 



126 SIDNEY LEAR. 

Full draughts restorative from ocean's breeze 
And heather air. And not a Httle 
Commendation due, to salmon conflicts, 
On the Caledonian friths, and locks, and 
Rushincr streams. 



SIDNEY LEAR. 12/ 

(Contributed by Ossian Marr, Esq., of Auckingill, Scotland.) 

Hang pendants of the willow 

On Connawas-set's flight ; 
For Sorrow's briny billow 

Breaks on Culloden's height; 
And on the miller's pillow 

Drop tears the livelong night. 

Far, far on Orkney Islands 

The tri.stful party roam ; 
Or in the Scottish Highlands 

Despondent tread the broom ; 
'T was in the good ship "Weiland" 

They left the natal home. 

Now sits the mother knitting 

O'ercome with boding fears ; 
And by his hopper sitting 

The miller melts in tears ; 
And Malcom's peace is flitting 

As he strokes the spaniel's ears. 



128 SIDNEY LKAU. 

But joy at Brae CuUodcn ! 

Hearts glad as hearts can be ! 
For on the " Bonny Snowden," 

Across the swelling sea, 
Come Stephen and the maiden 

To bless the waiting three. 

The cloud the yduth was under 
Dropt on the Highland moor; 

T was Sidney's nursing tender 
Help'd on the final cure ; 

And, the trip produced a wonder ! 
Cassandra's blackamoor ! 

THE END. 



OF CONGRESS 



